The Heart Within
by Ming-Yue-Huo
Summary: Four years later, Fakir makes one more attempt to write Ahiru's story, with unexpected results. This choice awakens the story and draws him and Ahiru into battle against an unknown force that will ultimately show them the true nature of the heart within.
1. Dreams

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter One: Dreams**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Princess Tutu. (There. I said it!)

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_Darkness surrounded her, cold and despondent. The icy air pulled at her breath and brushed against her shoulders, but Ahiru felt only the warmth of his hands holding hers, twirling her, lifting her into the air, embracing her as she drew near. Ahiru could hear his words, their sound echoing in her head distantly, even though he whispered them into her ear. She could hear strains of his words if she tried, but they were so faint that she could barely recall them; _

"_Don't just blame yourself. Everyone is scared, returning to their true selves…"_

_As she twirled, she could feel the gentle smile on her face, but her body, her senses, everything seemed distant as the moment went on. His words escaped her ears once more and she strained again to hear them._

"_The real you is a duck… The real me…"_

_His words faded again as she twirled. Her gentle smile remained, but in her head, more clearly than the scene before her or his soft breath against her ear, her voice rang out in protest. _

"_Why_? Why do we have to end the story?"

_The words, despite having been spoken in her head, echoed raucously through the empty space, but did not seem to have any effect on either of the two. They continued to dance._

"…_even if that is my true form… I want to make the story end…" His words returned and then faded away once more. She twirled again in his arms._

"_Let's go back to being our real selves… Let's bring this story to a conclusion."_

"_Okay." She heard herself say. _

"No!" _Her voice screamed inside her own head, despite the smile that still remained on her face. She could feel the pendant slip from around her slender neck, falling away from her forever._

"This isn't happening –_Quack_!"

--

Ahiru opened her eyes, only to find herself not staring into the eyes of a memory long ago, but at the stitches of the warm woolen blanket that lined her bed. The wicker basket creaked softly as she shifted, still blinking blearily as the last traces of sleep left her mind. Peeking over the rim of the basket, Ahiru saw that Fakir had already awoken and had made his bed. When she listened, she could hear the noises of him making breakfast downstairs and the musical twinkling noise of a cup of tea being poured.

Shaking her head in an effort to dispel the uneasiness that had arisen within her small feathered body, Ahiru looked about Fakir's room from her position on his bedside table. The walls shone a soft white in the early morning sunlight; the windows were open, permitting a gentle spring-scented breeze into the room. The curtains fluttered, making a soft, comforting sound that soothed Ahiru's still rapidly beating heart. Picking herself up, Ahiru hopped out of her basket and onto Fakir's bed, and then onto the wooden floor. The glossy wood stole the warmth from her webbed feet, but Ahiru waddled quickly toward the door, knowing that she could warm herself at the wood stove downstairs.

Ahiru knew that Fakir could hear her hopping down the stairs one by one and would be waiting for her when she emerged into the kitchen, so she molded her face into what she hoped would look like a smile and hopped into sight.

Fakir was preparing what looked like oatmeal, judging from the petite saucepan on the stove. Ahiru couldn't see the contents of the saucepan from her height, but she hopped onto the kitchen table and quacked a friendly greeting to Fakir.

He turned and smiled at her, oatmeal-covered spoon in one hand.

"Good morning, Ahiru." He greeted her and removed two bowls from a nearby cabinet, placing them on the table before Ahiru. Ahiru quacked again and smiled, studying his face ponderingly.

Not much had changed about either of them since their defeat of the monster raven years ago. Fakir had grown even taller since then, but he still wore his dark hair tied back and he still greeted her in the same way that he had the morning after their victory. His eyes, with their hint of dark green, had not lost their intensity; nor had his smile. He was still the same Fakir that Ahiru had known those many years ago.

And of course, Ahiru was still a duck.

On that day, so many years ago, she had accepted her fate and returned that last shard of Mytho's heart to him, thus dedicating the rest of her life to her existence as a duck, and nothing more. But Ahiru would never say that she regretted her decision. _Never_. Even if her dreams of that promise long ago continued night after night, as they had for the past year, she would sooner leave Fakir and live alone in the forest before she would admit that she was unhappy. After all, she had made a promise to Fakir, to be herself and return to being a duck, and he had in turn promised to stay by her side for the rest of their lives. So Ahiru didn't even have the right to think, for even a moment, that she would have been better off if she had chosen to remain a girl. -Even if she could have been able to talk to Fakir, and been able to laugh with him, to comfort him with more than a sad, empathetic "_Quack_" when he needed comforting. No; she had made the right choice, deciding to return to her original form as a duck.

It wasn't as if she could return to that moment in the past and change her mind, deny the story of the Prince and the Raven its proper ending. And there was no way she could become a girl again; especially not without breaking her promise to Fakir.

Ahiru returned to the present with a start as Fakir poured oatmeal into her bowl, the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafting through her senses. She moved forward and began to eat with fervor, enjoying the warmth of the steam on her face.

Fakir laughed and joined her at the table, delicately beginning to eat his own oatmeal. "You know, you shouldn't eat all of it at once or you'll get sick."

"Quack!" Ahiru responded, and continued to eat at the same pace. She finished her bowl two seconds later and quacked again defiantly, which made Fakir smile again. Ahiru loved to make Fakir smile. After all, in her current form it seemed to be the only thing she could do.

Fakir finished his own oatmeal shortly after and replaced the spoon in his bowl. Ahiru was still cleaning her bill of the last fragrant traces of oatmeal when Fakir spoke.

"Hey, Ahiru. Did you know that it's been exactly four years since we defeated the raven?" He murmured quietly.

Ahiru paused in her cleaning to look at him. The look on his face sent a peculiar feeling through her when she did; Fakir was smiling, but there was something about his eyes that, for a moment, made her think of sadness. The feeling passed in a moment and Ahiru quacked, nodding her head.

Fakir smiled yet again and stood, gathering the two empty bowls from the table.

_That was strange_, Ahiru thought as she looked worriedly in the direction of Fakir's turned back. She watched Fakir's movements as he cleaned up the morning's meal and prepared for the activities of the day. She wasn't sure, but Ahiru thought she could see weariness in the lines of his body as he moved about the kitchen, now that she thought to look.

Suddenly, before Ahiru could suppress the idea, the thought rose to the front of her mind as she watched Fakir: _I wish I could be human again. Then I could ask him what is bothering him, and how are Rue and Mytho, and a million other things…_

Ahiru quickly covered her bill with her wing as if to hush the unbidden thoughts, horrified. How could she even think these thoughts, after all that Fakir had done for her?

Fakir turned and caught sight of Ahiru covering her bill and raised an eyebrow, chuckling slightly. "Ahiru, what are you doing?"

"Nothing-! I was just ah… Warming my bill!" Ahiru squeaked, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was _"Qu-_ack! Quack, quack, quack, qua -quack, _quack_! "

The smile slowly faded on Fakir's face and his eyes flickered. "Okay then." He muttered softly.

"I'm going out for a while, Ahiru. Will you be alright here?"

"Quack!"

Once more Fakir's eyes flickered, but he nodded. "…Okay. I'll be back soon."

Ahiru's heart clamped painfully when she heard the door shut and she looked about for something to do until Fakir returned. Looking back toward the door, she sighed.

Despite his words, she always feared that one day, he wouldn't come back. Each time he left, she longed to go with him, but she could never seem to convey her message to him. Thus, she found herself shut up in Charon's antique shop, unable to do more than waddle about the house and hope that he would return soon. After all, it wasn't as if she could do more than eat and sleep when he had left the house for that day. And then when Fakir was around, she could only dip her bill in agreement or shake her head to disagree. Without the ability to have a full conversation, Ahiru couldn't help but feel that they were drifting apart as time passed.

She wondered if Fakir ever got tired of talking to a duck every morning, without promise of a full response. Ahiru used to love having him talk to her, but recently he'd been much quieter, as if he too could sense the growing gap in their lives and their friendship.

Another sigh escaped her small, fragile figure. Painstakingly, she flapped her way to the stairway and hopped upstairs, reentering Fakir's bedroom. The room had grown slightly chilly and the sunlight had faded from the window sill, but Ahiru made her way to her basket on Fakir's bedside table and burrowed her way under the blankets. Once she had tucked herself in firmly, she ruffled her feathers and tucked her head under her wing, hoping that her forbidden wish would leave her mind and the aching fade from her chest. But both the wish and the burning ache remained. Closing her eyes, she imagined that she could hear Fakir's steady breathing beside her, his reassuring presence soothing her back into sleep.

She would never admit that she was unhappy. Even if she was.

--

Fakir struggled to loosen the sudden knot in his throat as he shut the door and proceeded to walk down the paved street. Behind him, the familiar shop sign, _Schmied_, faded into the distance. Soon, Fakir had left the town and entered the woods at the edge of town. Even when the noises of the town had faded and he was left alone with the rustle of the trees, he continued walking.

It had started happening some time after the defeat of the monster raven. At first he had barely noticed it. In the months after the battle, he and Ahiru could talk for hours about the events of the day. And each time she spoke, he could see her face in his mind, encouraging him, scolding him, laughing with him. As time passed, he had thought that the strange pauses in their 'conversation' were merely natural. However, after the second fire festival following their victory, Ahiru had quacked at him, probably commenting on the dancers at the festival, and he had realized that he could no longer interpret the meaning of her words purely through her tone and body movements. He had spent many nights each month after that lying in his darkened room, while Ahiru slept in her basket nearby, wondering why it seemed as if she no longer made sense when she spoke. –Not that she had ever made any sense when she had been a human girl, but this seemed different…

-And then, today, for the first time, he couldn't understand her at all.

Fakir paused as he reached a clearing in the woods. Just beyond the trees at the edge of the clearing, he could see the pond where he and Ahiru had often gone on lazy afternoons to enjoy the weather and write his story. Making his decision, Fakir turned from his path through the woods and made his way toward the dock that jutted out at the pond's edge. Fakir's steps on the solid, sun-bleached wood echoed in the silence of the clearing.

The water's surface was still and smooth as Fakir peered over the edge of the dock at his reflection. His own expression troubled him; his eyebrows had sunk low in frustrated contemplation, his eyes seeming darker than normal. Allowing his vision to unfocus, Fakir tried to call up Ahiru's face in his mind. He remembered that she had fair skin and her hair had been the color of autumn leaves, and of course her eyes were blue; that part of her had not changed. He took these memories and tried to piece them together, but they simply faded away and were lost in the recesses of his mind. He tried closing his eyes and imagining her next to him, saying something nonsensical but somehow reassuring… -But what had her voice sounded like? He could not remember.

Frustrated, he turned away from the glassy surface of the pool before him and ventured back the way he had come.

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I've always wanted to do a fanfic for Princess Tutu; there were so many things that should have happened, all of which never did.

Please Review! -


	2. Useless

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Two: Useless**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

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Ahiru shifted in her sleep, a cold wind breezing through Fakir's open windows. Outside, the sun had nearly reached its highest point in the sky and Fakir had not yet returned. The little duck shivered beneath her warm blankets, lost in her dreaming. Charon passed by her room, briefly glancing in at the sleeping duck as he went.

"She seems to sleep more and more these days, doesn't she?" He noted to himself, and passed on. Ahiru, nestled in her basket, continued to toss and turn.

--

_She could not hear anything, see anything, or feel anything apart from the icy surface of the ground beneath her. Her blue eyes searched the darkness, looking for anything familiar to dispel the feeling of icy fear growing within. _

"_Fakir?" She called out, her voice once again that of a human girl. The darkness around her responded only by wrapping even more tightly around her and pressing up against her open, unseeing eyes. The absence of light and feeling made her feel vulnerable, and her heart sped against her ribcage, as if fighting for its release. _

"_Ahiru."_

_She turned with a gasp, looking about her for the source of the voice. Only blackness, an endless expanse of nothing, met her eyes._

"_Who's there?" She whispered anxiously._

_Overhead a light grew into existence, a shining a beam of light that illuminated Ahiru and her bright yellow feathers, but not the surface beneath her feet, nor the vast expanse of blackness around her. When she squinted up at the source of the light, she saw only blackness. And yet, looking around, Ahiru could see that she stood at the dead center of the ring of light._

_A spotlight._

"_As one story ends, another comes into existence. The beginning is an end. The end is also a beginning…" The voice recited, the words sending terror through her body. They sounded so familiar. Where had she heard them before?_

"…_Drosselmeyer…?" She ventured hesitantly, dreading and anticipating the response._

_The voice chuckled, echoing in the vast space around her. _

"_Not quite." The voice replied, and she felt immense relief and sudden fear juxtaposed in the same moment._

"_Then who are you?" She cried out, her voice sounding empty and afraid in the great space._

"_I'm sure you'll find out very soon." The voice teased._

"_No, wait! Who are you-?" She cried out._

"_You'll see…" _

_She looked about frantically, but the voice and the light faded away into nothing, leaving her alone in the blackness once more._

--

Fakir knew he should have returned home and fetched Ahiru before visiting Rue and Mytho, as she hadn't seen either of them in such a long time. But for some reason he passed the house and continued on through town.

Kinkan Academy shone softly in the midday sunlight as Fakir crossed the bridge onto the campus grounds. Numerous students sprawled across the lush green lawns and sat on the rim of the fountain at the center of the campus, chatting idly and enjoying the mild springtime weather. The scent of the newly blooming flowers and the sweet hint of spring rain in the air sent waves of nostalgia through Fakir's mind, but he could not explain why. Gritting his teeth, he strode across the grounds, directing his steps toward the advanced classrooms. The library rose up to his right, the inconspicuous golden brickwork calling up memories of his many hours spent there searching for clues to his quest. That had been when the story had still been happening. Now, however, the story had come to an end and Fakir had fulfilled his role in the story.

Vaguely he recalled the night when he and Ahiru had exchanged promises, from deep within the depths of the Lake of Despair. _"Let's go back to being ourselves… Let's bring this story to an end…"_

And for the millionth time within the past four years, Fakir wondered if he had made the right decision. _"Everyone's scared… they've become accustomed to their roles in the story…"_

His fists clenched tighter. It was true. He _had_ become accustomed to his role in the story; he himself had admitted it. However, he couldn't possibly have known how true his words were until the story had truly ended. True, he had decided to take over Drosselmeyer's control of the story and write the story from then on, but now that he had the power to do what he wished with his life, he knew not what to do with his newfound freedom.

Fakir had just passed the library when a sharp voice rang out through the air behind him.

"_Fakir_! Why didn't you show up for your class today?"

Fakir rolled his eyes in irritation, turning to face the young woman who had addressed him. Hands set on her hips, her scarlet-brown eyes scanned Fakir's face scathingly. As they stood there facing each other, the wind lifted her glossy, raven-colored hair and ruffled the silk of her vivid crimson costume. As the silence between them grew, the ivory skinned woman narrowed her eyes, glaring at Fakir with such hostile animosity that he wondered just how her fiancé could withstand her intensity.

"_Fakir_." She hissed. "I had to interrupt a performance today to go hush those chattering girls. _You_ should have been there to keep your class under control."

Fakir turned his head, uninterested in her oncoming temper tantrum. Scanning the red-shingled rooftops of the library as a flock of birds took to the skies, he casually asked, "_So_, Miss Rue. How are things with Mytho? Going smoothly?"

Rue, caught off guard, replied; "Things are fine and- _Hey_, d_on't you dare change the subject on me_! I'm the head of this division of the Academy," She raged, causing the students nearby to look in their direction. "And it's your responsibility to teach those students to-"

"-_That_ badly, huh?" He breathed with mock sympathy. "You know, you could just go and apologize to him for whatever it was that you did wrong…"

Fakir had to restrain himself from grinning, congratulating himself as the volatile young woman's eyes lit with fire. In that gown, he noted amusedly to himself, she really was more reminiscent of a dragon than anything he'd ever seen. He closed his eyes again sympathetically, turning away from Rue as he called over his shoulder, "Apologize soon. You wouldn't want to have to call off the wedding, would you? –And I'm sure he'll forgive you if you just set aside your _pride_ for a minute…" he remarked, covering his grin with his hand as Rue began to stomp menacingly after him.

"My pride?" She screeched, her voice pitched higher than before. "What about _you_?! -Mister-_I-can-ignore-all-my-responsibilities-whenever-I-so-chose_?"

Fakir shrugged nonchalantly and opened the door leading into the advanced classes building. Rue made a dive for the entrance, but Fakir swung the door shut in her face and continued (_BANG-!_) to walk, coolly maintaining his composure.

The halls in this wing were empty, the classrooms always devoid of life in the afternoons, especially during the spring and summer, when the sun burned its hottest. Blindingly bright afternoon sunlight shone through the numerous windows, slanting across the floors of the classrooms that Fakir passed as he went.

After a few steps, Fakir heard the doors at the end of the hall open as "The Terror of Kinkan Academy" (or so she was called among the students nowadays) raged into the building. Fakir smoothed the grin from his face and turned once again to face the fuming young woman before him. Much did it surprise him to see that Rue had, in her extreme fury, actually begun to pant. Vaguely, he wondered how long it would take her to pass out if she kept hyperventilating like that.

"_Fakir_!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs, her fists clenched and her knuckles white. She had just commenced another tirade when a soft voice spoke behind her.

"What is wrong, Rue?"

Fakir had to prevent himself from jumping as Rue made an uncharacteristic noise much like a mouse being trodden on, looking about for the speaker. A tall young man with snowy-white hair placed a hand on her shoulder and snaked his other hand around her waist, tenderly clasping her to him. Rue stilled immediately at his touch, the anger visibly draining from her face.

Fakir couldn't help it. His eyes widened and an uncomfortable feeling sank into his stomach like insidious, icy lead. Fakir still could never get used to the idea of Mytho getting married or being _close_ to anyone, even though he had had the better part of the past four years to become accustomed to it. Not long after the end of Drosselmeyer's control over Kinkan town and the defeat of the monster raven, Mute and Rue had announced that they were engaged and would wait a few years before they were married. Since then, Mytho and Rue had been inseparable, floating in happiness as they completed their schooling at Kinkan Academy. Together, they both became ballet instructors for the advanced classes at the academy and they performed in numerous productions put on each year. Mytho, together with his raven-haired primadonna, danced the years away, always content with just each other and nothing else.

Then, just earlier this year, Rue was appointed the new mistress of Kinkan Academy's ballet division. Consequently, they began to plan for her and Mytho's wedding to take place during the following winter.

This, of course, left Fakir with mixed feelings. For so long, Fakir had treated Mytho as a child who knew not what to do with his life or how to behave. However, now that Mytho had gotten his heart back, Fakir found the situation reversed; now he, Fakir, did not know what he wanted to accomplish with his life and he no longer knew how to live his life without constantly caring for Mytho. Now that Mytho would be marrying Rue, Fakir would be left behind as he struggled to learn how to live his life again.

And now that Fakir was losing his ability to talk to Ahiru, he felt completely and utterly alone. -Alone and uncertain, at a time when Fakir could no longer sit down and stubbornly refuse to go on with his task, or run sniffling and crying to Charon, asking him what he should do.

_Completely alone._

"Fakir? Were you looking for something?"

Mytho's gentle voice brought Fakir back from his downhearted musings. Fakir quickly looked up and tried to ignore Mytho's hands which now rested casually on Rue's shapely, silk-draped hips. Now Fakir could remember how Mytho could put up with this moody creature; his very touch tranquilized her even during the worst of her tantrums.

"Actually, yes," Fakir began, steeling himself to control his voice. "I was looking for you, but your fiancée found me first." He looked at Rue, whose formerly fair countenance was once again growing livid, having been reminded about Fakir's lack of concern for his responsibilities.

Mytho began to speak, but found himself cut off by Rue. She stepped forward confrontationally, out of Mytho's grasp, her fists clenched again. As soon as she was out of Mytho's reach, she began to breathe more harshly as the anger rose inside her.

"He was also mocking me, and being disrespectful, and _irresponsible_!" She asserted angrily, glaring at Fakir's carefully maintained careless expression.

"Are you done?" He drawled, beginning to turn away. "Mytho, why don't we talk privately-"

"I can take away your job any time I want, now that I'm the head of the ballet division! Why don't you just quit if you never show up?!"

Fakir glanced over his shoulder briefly and shrugged. "I took on this job so that I wouldn't get rusty-" he began again, only to be interrupted by Rue's sudden assertion, her voice having gone quiet with held-back fury:

"_You only took on this job because you know that you are _useless_ now that your role in the story is finished!_" she spat venomously and slammed the door as she left the wing.

Silence ensued throughout the advanced class wing, echoing Rue's hateful words again and again.

_Useless… you are useless…_

Fakir felt strangely numb as the words echoed in his head even though they had ceased to ring in the hallway. Mytho remained a few feet away, saying nothing. He stood there, seeming to wait for Fakir to say or do something. Through Fakir's numbness, he felt some slight annoyance that his old friend wasn't leaving or doing anything; Mytho just stood in the silence, waiting.

Fakir finally swiped a hand over his face, trying to regain his composure and appear as if Rue's comment had not fazed him. Letting out a long breath of air, he looked in Mytho's direction. Golden eyes looked back at Fakir, seeing through his clumsy act. Feeling a little ashamed of himself for even attempting to fool his friend, he irritatedly waved a hand in the direction that Rue had gone.

"Aren't you going to go and calm her down or something?"

Mytho just looked at him in silence, his face unreadable. After a few moments silence, however, he murmured, "She'll calm down on her own. –You said you were looking for me?"

Fakir looked away, saying nothing. Having Mytho remind him of the reason he had come to the academy that day did not lift his spirits.

Mytho turned and walked past Fakir, gesturing for him to follow. "Come with me and we can talk." Fakir's feet moved involuntarily at his friend's request and shortly after, Fakir found himself being led through the school and up several flights of stairs.

-That was another thing that Fakir was unused to; now that Mytho had his heart back, he regularly commanded others instead of blindly and unquestioningly following their orders. The idea of an intelligent and assertive Mytho, however, was by Fakir found to be a soothing notion. It would be good to know that, when Mytho and Rue were married, Mytho wouldn't allow Rue to constantly boss him around.

As Mytho and Fakir made their way through the building, classical music resounded through the corridors from various classes in session in the adjacent wing. Before Mytho made the turn that would lead them into that wing, he led Fakir up another flight of stairs onto a less-used level of the building. The wooden floors creaked with age as Mytho guided Fakir across the floor and to a wooden door. Reaching for his neck, Mytho fished out a tarnished silver key on an equally tarnished chain and unlocked the door, exposing another set of rickety wooden stairs that ascended into a dark space above.

Not hesitating to find a lamp, Mytho beckoned to Fakir again and disappeared into the darkness of the stairs. Fakir followed blindly -quite literally- and used his hands to guide him up the stairs which angled around and upwards in a spiral, thinking the situation rather ironic.

At last, after a few turns of the wooden stairs, Fakir perceived a thin shaft of light ahead in the pitch blackness.

"It's just ahead," Mytho's voice, despite its soft tone, startled Fakir as it sounded a few steps in front of Fakir. Fakir squinted slightly, attempting to discern the white-haired young man's figure in the open, lightless space. As they neared the source of light, Mytho's white hair began to become visible, almost like a beacon in the darkness.

Mytho stopped a few steps ahead and Fakir heard the jangling of the key on its tarnished silver chain as Mytho unlocked a second door at the top of the rickety wooden stairs. The lock clicked somewhat reluctantly and Fakir could see Mytho lean his weight against one side of the door, pushing hard. The wooden door scraped loudly against the frame and swung open, letting in a rush of afternoon sunlight that momentarily blinded Fakir.

Lights dancing behind his eyelids, Fakir stepped out of the dark stairwell after Mytho into what appeared to be a mid-sized balcony open to the air. Set high above the rooftop of the academy, Fakir observed the pale, red-tinted shingles of the rooftops below and the open stretch of grassy commons behind the school. Across the field, a different division of Kinkan Academy gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Sweet piano and string melodies drifted on the air from the other division, presumably the music section. The door out of which he and Mytho had just come was set in the side of a tower that rose up into the sky, an elaborately carved weather vane twirling at its top in the gentle breeze.

"Where are we?" Fakir asked as he attempted to gauge their location on the campus. When only silence met his ears, he looked about and saw Mytho leaning against the carved marble railing that lined the open space, regarding the open grounds before him.

After a few moments, Mytho replied, "The clock tower observatory."

Not two seconds later Fakir heard from the other side of the tower a familiar melody chime across the grounds, sounding the hour. The image formed in his mind of the metallic figures of the raven, the prince, and the dancing couple extending over the academy as the students filed back into the building for their afternoon classes. His mouth dropped open.

"Since when has this place been here?" Fakir demanded of Mytho, whose bright white hair gleamed in the sunshine.

"I don't know," Mytho shrugged; the sleeves of his pale blue tunic flapped lightly as a slight wind gusted over the rooftop. The young man closed his eyes, enjoying the sunlight on his face. "I found the door a month ago."

"…Ah." Was Fakir's slow reply.

Mytho slowly opened one eye to look at his old friend, leaning himself against the observatory railing. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Again, the unpleasant clenching feeling in his stomach; Fakir's eyes snapped to Mytho's relaxed face. Mytho looked straight back into Fakir's eyes as Fakir struggled to keep his composure. Mytho also seemed to have –somewhat unnervingly- grown ten times more perceptive of other's emotions than other ordinary human beings since regaining his heart.

He waited patiently as Fakir gathered the courage to speak, not averting his eyes from Fakir's face.

Finally, Fakir muttered, "It's Ahiru." He hesitated before continuing, "It's been more and more difficult to understand her lately. And today…" he swallowed, attempting to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat, "I couldn't hear her words at all."

Mytho closed his eyes again, crossing his arms as he leaned forward. "You could understand her before?" He inquired.

Fakir nodded. "Yeah. I could see her face in my head, and I could hear her voice speaking. -Not as a duck, but as a human…" He paused, still trying to recall her face. When he failed again, he flung down his hands in frustration. "I still can't see her face! –How am I supposed to protect her and keep her happy if I can't even understand her?"

Wind wrapped around Fakir's body in the silence that ensued after his outburst. With a shaking hand, Fakir ran his finger through his hair and took a deep breath. After a moment, he muttered quietly, "Maybe Rue is right. I am pretty useless now that my role is finished in the story."

Mytho stepped forward, coming away from the railing. Opening his eyes, he looked straight at Fakir. "You are not useless," he asserted, unfolding his arms as he strode forward. "You are uncertain."

Fakir's startled look confirmed Mytho's statement. Mytho smiled a sympathetic, understanding smile and re-crossed his arms. "Do your best to understand her, even if you cannot hear her words." Mytho advised. "You are her sole caretaker; only you can make her truly happy. _There_ is something that only you can do."

Fakir looked away across the grounds, feeling his unhappiness rise inside him like a wave. Somehow, he had hoped that Mytho could solve his problems, tell him what he needed to know in order to understand Ahiru again. Mytho's statement seemed to tell Fakir that his hopes had been futile and that nothing could be done. Mytho looked in the direction of Fakir's gaze and smiled. "It's beautiful isn't it?"

Fakir nodded mutely and quickly scanned the scene below them with detached interest. His state of agitation rendered him incapable of enjoyment of the golden-lined clouds in the sky, or the way that the buildings glowed in the afternoon sunlight. Wind blew across the rooftops, growing chilly as the sun passed behind a layer of clouds.

A sudden creaking and clicking of gears reverberated through the tower, and the clock chimed once, marking the half hour. Mytho turned to Fakir, smiling gently. "You're still not sure of yourself." He remarked softly. Fakir did not look him in the eyes, refusing to acknowledge Mytho's comment. Regardless of its truth.

Mytho strode to the door and held it open for Fakir to pass. "You should return to her now. You'll know what to do when you see her."

The return through the dark stairwell made Fakir feel as if he would never reemerge into the light.

--

"Ahiru?" Fakir touched the duck's feathered back as she shifted in her sleep. She did not seem as if she would wake up yet, so he decided to let her sleep a little longer. She seemed so tired these days.

Fakir turned from her sleeping form and faced the open windows. Mytho must have been wrong. Looking at her as she slept so peacefully in her basket, he still had not the slightest notion of what he should do to understand her again.

The sun outside had started sloping down past its zenith, casting faint shadows across the windowsill and the wooden floor of the bedroom. Walking forward, Fakir placed his hands on the sill and surveyed the street below. The cobblestone-paved streets in the afternoon sunlight cast a golden glow onto the houses and passerby outside, seeming to bestow each of them with their own inner radiance. Nearby a couple walked hand in hand, their serene smiles mirroring each other, their looks and movements perfectly in synch. A small child at the far end of the street giggled loudly and chased after his pet dog. Distantly, Fakir could hear the voice of his grandmother calling good-naturedly for him to come inside. Overhead, birds flapped across the brilliant afternoon sky, causing brief shadows to flit across the cobblestones and passerby.

Such peace and warmth seemed to be out of reach for Fakir, who could only stand at the window and watch from inside the chilly, darkened room. He closed his eyes in silent frustration and carefully closed the windows, mindful of Ahiru's slumber. _Even she seems to be at peace_, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder to observe her steady breathing. Stepping as quietly as he could, he stood over Ahiru's wicker basket again, watching her sleep. Her gentle sighs as she slept filled him with a strange possessiveness and at the same time, guilt. He wished, as he always had, that he could protect her, but knew that he could never do such a thing. Before him, Ahiru's small, gently sighing form seemed thin and immaterial, as if she was fading away into nonexistence. In the dimly lit room, Fakir could not be sure that she was really there.

On an impulse, Fakir reached out to stroke her glossy feathers with a shaking hand, but he hesitated moments before the contact. If he touched her, she might wake up. And then she might quack at him and then…

He didn't want to find out whether or not he had truly lost all ability to understand her. Not yet. Dropping his hand to his side, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Descending onto the lower level of the house, Fakir looked about him, searching for something unknown. Something to do? Someone to talk to? He didn't know.

He entered the kitchen, the sounds of the wood stove and the creaking oak floors soothing him marginally. In a corner of the room, a faucet dripped periodically, pattering a steady beat. Fakir took a deep breath and calmed down enough to seat himself in a chair at the kitchen table. Another deep breath.

Mytho had said that he would know what to do when he returned. Sitting there in the radiant warmth of the wood stove, Fakir could not think of a single thing that he could do; something that Mytho said that only _he_, Fakir, could do…

Fakir jumped to his feet at the exact same time that Charon entered the kitchen with arms full of shopping items.

"Ah, Fakir! It's good to have you home! Could you help me with these-?"

Fakir consented to help Charon put away his groceries, but his heart raced as he did so; he knew what to do. Mytho had said that there was something that only _he_ could do. Fakir couldn't believe how long it had taken him to figure out what Mytho had meant, but now that the thought had come into his mind, he could not think of anything else that Mytho could have meant.

After he had finished putting away the items, Fakir quickly stepped upstairs and stood over Ahiru's wicker basket, fists clenched at his sides with determination.

_I will protect you_, he vowed silently, his eyes following the rise and fall of her downy yellow chest.

_I will not be useless to you. Not again. _

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Yay! Another chapter! (I love updating stuff; it makes me feel like I've done something. -)

-While I'm here, I'd like to apologize for my frequent abuse of semicolons and commas, and my tendency to write run-on sentences. –I like words… and ellipsises… Heheh…

As for a little history, I actually already wrote this fanfic. It was approximately 30 typed pages long before I realized that I was missing some key elements (i.e. an antagonist and a plot -!!) So some hardcore revision of the story was necessary, but things are all better now. All that remains to be done is the writing. (GACK.)

I'm not completely certain, but this fanfic will probably (_definitely_-!) end up exceeding fifteen chapters. (Sorry! Sorry! I have an extreme aversion to choppy story pacing, so I pretty much end up writing a whole_ book_ whenever I do write anything.)

Also, has anyone noticed that standing over Ahiru's basket (creeepppyyyy) and feeling guilty/sorry for himself are some of Fakir's favorite pastimes? How unfortunate he is to have me for his "puppeteer".

–And as for a happy ending… We shall see… - _winkwink_

Thanks so much for your reviews! Please keep them coming!


	3. The Story Awakens

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Three: The Story Awakens**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

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_Something that only I can do. _

Fakir toyed with his duck-feather quill pen, seated at his desk. By his right hand, a lamp of Ahiru's flickered with an orange glow, casting long shadows on the walls of the room. The house was completely silent, several hours having passed since Fakir had helped Charon to put away his groceries and cook supper. Ahiru had not woken when Fakir called and although Fakir ordinarily might have been troubled by this, he secretly felt glad that Ahiru had not come to supper. Cowardly as he knew it was, the situation allowed him to put off finding out the truth for a few more hours.

From his seat near the window, Fakir could see the houses across the street with their darkened windows, all illuminated in the ghostly silver light of the half moon overhead. A few paces away, Ahiru gave another sigh in her sleep and shifted in her wicker basket. Fakir steeled himself not to be distracted, not to look in her direction and recommence the whole process of self-loathing and guilt that he had already explored several times that night. He knew that those thoughts would come to nothing.

_Something that only he could do_. That was what Mytho had said to him that afternoon, was it not? Or had he simply meant that Fakir was the only one who had no other ambitions or plans for his life and therefore was the only one who had the time to invest in caring for a duck who had once been a girl?

The edges of the pale parchment before him blurred slightly as Fakir stretched his tense, cramped muscles. His movements cast eerie, flitting shadows to skitter across the walls behind him. The shadows combined and whirled in a wild dance, merging and separating…

_Stay focused!_ Fakir told himself, sitting forward determinedly with his quill in hand. His ink bottle sat just to the left of the lamp, half cast in shadow by the lamp's base. He removed the stopper…

Another sigh from behind him caused him to jerk and look around.

Ahiru's yellow-feathered wing, tucked over her head, was just visible above the rim of the wicker basket, bobbing up and down in steady rhythm with her breathing. She looked too fragile and helpless, sleeping there on his bedside table, cast in the warm orange glow of the lamplight. He could scarcely understand how he could have allowed himself to forget her face and her voice, and the way she used to look at him when they talked…

What kind of person was he to have forgotten her?

Growling softly at himself, Fakir shook his head to clear it of those thoughts and grasped a sheet of paper in one hand, along with his ink bottle and quill pen. The other hand he used to carefully move himself from his chair and gather up the lamp without disturbing Ahiru. Quietly as he could manage, burdened as he was with the lamp, quill, paper, and ink bottle, Fakir exited the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

The stairs creaked as he made his way down to the first level of the house and into the kitchen. There, the warmth of the woodstove would soothe his tired body and the sound of Ahiru's dreaming would not distract him. Fakir set his lamp, ink, paper, and quill down on the kitchen table before seating himself in the place where he normally ate breakfast every morning.

The wood in the stove crackled quietly as Fakir raised his quill and held it poised above the paper. Lowering the tip of the pen by a fraction, Fakir felt no resistance. Energy flowed into his body and he stabbed forward blindly onto the paper, writing the first sentence of many that would change this story and save his and Ahiru's increasingly tenuous friendship –only to realize that he had not dipped his pen into the ink bottle yet.

Chuckling somewhat sardonically at his current state of fatigue, Fakir uncapped his bottle of ink and dipped his quill. Then, right before he pressed the tip of the pen to the page, he felt the familiar feelings of hesitance, uncertainty, and guilt building up inside his body, paralyzing his hand as he tried to write.

Fakir dropped his quill on the table, splattering its surface with minute droplets of black ink. Chuckling again, Fakir mused to himself that Mytho probably hadn't meant for Fakir to interpret his words quite so literally. Or for Fakir to think of using his writing powers to make himself understand Ahiru again. Besides, if Fakir used his power to alter the outcome of the original story, what would happen if his words somehow warped and destroyed the peace for which he, Ahiru, Mytho, and Rue had so determinedly fought? Changing the story too drastically just to satisfy his own selfish desires would be irresponsible of him. He would be abusing the power that he had promised to handle responsibly. Therefore, Mytho couldn't possibly have been implying that Fakir should bring back all the conflict and chaos that had long ago been resolved.

And yet Fakir could not possibly think of anything else that Mytho could have meant.

Leaning forward, Fakir cradled his face in his hands, closing his tired eyes. He wanted to go to sleep right now, to stay forever in eternal dreaming and never have to think of these problems ever again. But that was not possible. Relaxing his hands slightly, Fakir peeked through the cracks in his fingers at the blurry, pale parchment in front of him.

What did he want to accomplish? He knew that he wanted to protect Ahiru. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to understand her again. How was he to do all of those things? What could he write that could solve these problems? What if something went wrong?

Fakir groaned and closed his eyes. This seemed far more complicated than he knew it really was. This task should not be nearly this difficult. Attempting to build up some resolve, Fakir took one hand away from his face, picked up his quill, dipped it into the ink bottle. Tapping it to remove excess ink, he clutched his face with one hand and held the pen poised above the paper. However, the longer he waited, the more his fear grew. The ink dried on his pen.

"_You're trying to be responsible aren't you_?"

Words said long ago echoed suddenly in Fakir's head. He clenched his pen, gritting his teeth as he dipped his pen into the ink bottle again.

_Yes_, he thought. -_Because being irresponsible is what caused my parents' deaths. Being irresponsible is what caused ravens to almost kill Ahiru a few years ago during the final battle. In the end, I wasn't the one who saved her from their beaks; Ahiru used her own inner power to save herself. I only hurt her with my written words._

"_Being responsible prevents you from writing anything_," Drosselmeyer's voice murmured in Fakir's head again. Fakir felt the same resistance building within him that he had felt when Drosselmeyer had said these words four years ago.

"_Then it is better that I don't write anything that might hurt anyone!" _Fakir growled to himself.

_But is it really? Are you sure that this story won't get any worse if you do nothing?_ A new voice, the voice of doubt, spoke inside Fakir's head. He felt suddenly unsure of himself.

"_What will happen when Ahiru realizes that you've forgotten the sound of her voice?" _The voice continued._ "She'll become unhappy, yes? Didn't you say that your duty was to keep her happy?"_

Seconds ticked off the clock in the hallway. In the distance, a bell began to chime, sounding twelve times in the black night.

Fakir clenched his pen even more tightly. _Perhaps it would be better to be irresponsible, just this once. For Ahiru._

Fakir pushed his pen tip to the page, writing blindly and not knowing what he intended to write. A determined smile formed on his lips; he knew that it did not matter. He would let the story guide him where it would.

"_All was silent in the household where the small yellow duck slept..."_

--

Ahiru slept peacefully in her wicker basket, her blanket slipping slightly from her feathered shoulder. The moon shone through the open window, its light spilling across the sill and onto the floor. The silver light cast a slight glow on Ahiru form as she sighed in her sleep.

_Green fields surrounded her and extended unto forever, melding in the distance with the bright blue sky above. The fields undulated in the wind with flowers of every color and shape. She opened and closed her eyes lazily, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun on her feathered back. The air smelled of summer and grass, and the sound of the wind and the bees weaving their paths through the fields sounded all around her. She sighed happily and closed her eyes again, shivering at little as the warmth of the sun sent a tingle through her body. What she would give to stay here forever…_

_Suddenly she shivered; the feeling of the sun had gone from her back. When she listened, the sound of the wind and the bees had disappeared as well. She could hear only a strange, unidentifiable hollow noise that spoke of vast, open, emptiness. Opening her eyes, she found herself once again in that cold, vast expanse of blackness. A click sounded overhead and she once again stood at the center of a bright spotlight._

_She looked around, feeling fear rising within her as it did the last time she had dreamed of this place. Her throat tightened as she called out, "Hello?"_

"_Aha! The story has begun to move once again! At last!" _

"_Hello?" she called to the voice, the same one that had spoken to her the last time she had dreamt of this place. "What's going on? Why am I in this place?"_

_The voice laughed excitedly. "You won't be here too long, don't worry. You'll soon be on your way."_

_She flapped her wings in agitation. "On my way where? Where are you taking me?"_

_The voice could only laugh at her sudden outburst. "Oh, _I'm_ not taking you anywhere. _He_ is."_

_She felt her throat close up with fear as she tried to speak. And yet she could already feel the voice moving away, fading into the distance. In desperation she flapped her wings and ran after its fading presence. As she ran, the spotlight followed her, continuing to center perfectly over her body._

"_Please, wait! Wait! What's going to happen to me?" She cried out. _

"_Catch me if you can!" laughed the voice in the distance. _

_She continued to run, tripping over her own webbed feet as she chased after the voice into the eternal darkness._

The curtains at Fakir's open windows flapped in the suddenly chilly wind.

--

"_Not many knew, but the little duck had once been a human girl called Ahiru. She had been a brave girl full of courage, endurance, and hope._"

Fakir's lips formed the words as he carefully scrawled them onto the page. Not hesitating as his pen formed the last letter, he continued.

"_Ahiru had a single wish; a simple desire to make the boy that she loved happy." _

Something in Fakir's heart stirred strangely, but he ignored it, continuing to write hastily across the page:

"_Even though she knew that her love would never be requited, she endured any number of challenges and ordeals to make this boy happy and return to him his shattered heart. Had he realized her love for him and accepted her heart, he should have been the luckiest boy in the world." _

Fakir couldn't help it; the words that flowed from his pen captured his feelings and dragged them into the story as he wrote. Fakir's breathing quickened as he felt anger and betrayal. His friend Mytho, who could not accept Ahiru's precious feelings, even after all that she had done and all that she had sacrificed for him, could not possibly know what he had lost.

Taking a deep breath as he dipped his pen into the inkwell again, Fakir continued:

"_But when Ahiru had completed her task and returned the boy's heart to him, he took another as his princess, and Ahiru returned to her original form as a duck. In that state she lived for many years, until one day when her caretaker realized that he could no longer understand her words. With strange powers inherited from his ancestor, a man called Drosselmeyer, this boy decided to turn her into a human once more." _

Fakir's pen suddenly stopped moving and ink pooled at its point while Fakir stared at what he had written.

_Human_? He thought incredulously. _I only wanted to understand her again, I didn't want…_

He hesitated. Did he really not want her to be human again?

After a moment he let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. When he did think about talking with Ahiru again, having breakfast with her, and seeing her at the academy, his heart thrilled. Fakir felt a smile form on his lips. He _did_ want her to be human again; he wanted it so much that happiness bubbled high in his chest as the mere thought of seeing her again. He would do anything.

Fakir's hand whipped across the page, writing with newfound fervor.

"_On the night that he made this decision, he thought of his promise to protect her and forever keep her happy. He promised that, once she was human again, he would do everything in his power to make her happy. As his powers swirled at his fingertips, the boy imagined the small yellow duck surrounded by a gentle golden light." _

Fakir held his breath as his hand seemed to move of its own accord.

"_The duck glowed for a moment in his mind, floating into the air as she slept. The light then grew around her body, becoming almost blinding, and then she disappeared."_

Fakir's pen stopped abruptly on the page. Terror gripped his heart and Fakir pushed with all his might, but his pen would not move.

"No!" He growled as he strained to write another sentence. "No! The story can't end this way!"

He pushed so hard that the nib of his pen snapped and sprang away from the table, rolling under the wood stove. Staring numbly at the dark space under the stove where the nib of the pen had vanished, Fakir felt the blood pounding in his ears, and his heart racing thunderously in his chest.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at the inconspicuous white paper and the many ink blotches across its surface. "_What did I write?"_ He asked himself, horror rising within his body. He snatched the paper from the surface of the table and read the last sentence.

"…And then she disappeared." He whispered, his throat tightening.

Slowly he looked toward the stairs, listening with his entire being. Silence.

"_Ahiru_!" He breathed and dashed up the stairs.

--

"_Not much further!" The voice teased, bobbing closer, then farther away._

_She didn't think that she could run any longer; her body had reached its limits. _

"_Wai-wait!" She panted, slowing despite her efforts to keep up. Her webbed feet seemed to flop uselessly underneath her like clumsy weights, dragging her down. Regardless, she continued to pull forward, determined to catch the voice before it faded away completely. She cried out in desperation as she stumbled, struggling to keep up._

_The voice laughed, suddenly close by. "You may rest now."_

_Her legs gave out beneath her as she collapsed, but she did not feel the impact of her body as it hit the icy ground beneath her. For a moment, as she lay there, she was surrounded by a glowing golden light. She closed her eyes and let herself sink down into unconsciousness. It felt almost as if she herself was fading into nothing._

--

Fakir threw open the door and stumbled as he crossed the threshold. His legs cramped after having sat in one position for so many hours. He stumbled across the floor, nibless quill pen in hand, eyes on the wicker basket atop his bedside table. In the soft moonlight, the basket looked almost as if it was made of silver.

As he reached the basket, Fakir closed his eyes. He felt as if he could not breathe; the knot in his throat would not let air pass. Fakir's nails dug themselves into his palms as he clenched his fists.

Reaching into the basket, Fakir felt the rough shape of its bottom through the woolen blanket. He felt no yellow duck sleeping peacefully in the basket. Only a single yellow feather remained among the folds of the still warm blanket. Fakir's lip trembled as he fell to his knees.

Ahiru had disappeared, just as he had written.

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My, my, my! This seems to be an extremely short chapter. I'm sorry I took so long to get it out. (Research papers are EVIL. So are final exams. Blearghh.)

-And I'm sorry about all the cliffhangers! This one is even worse than last week's. (Gomenasai!)

Next week's chapter looks as if it'll be even shorter than this chapter, so I may combine it and chapter five just to make it worthwhile reading. (Next week we will find out exactly what happened to Ahiru and just how Fakir is dealing with his mistake.)

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Again, _please_ review! I can never get enough reviews!

Thanks for reading! -


	4. Broken Promises

The Heart Within

By

Ming-Yue-Huo

Chapter Four: Promises Broken

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu. :P

It felt so good to sleep. Silence all around with nothing to enter the calm, dreamless darkness in her head. She would never have to worry about anything ever again. She was safe here in sleep.

Overhead, dark clouds obscured the moon, casting the forest into complete darkness. The chilly wind whistled through the trees, causing the branches to rustle restlessly against one another. In the forest, a shower of rain droplets splattered upon the packed, cold earth of the forest floor as the wind passed.

Ahiru woke with a start as one raindrop splashed roughly in the dirt near her head, spraying sodden grit across her face. She shivered as she returned to consciousness and became aware of the icy, hard-packed dirt beneath her. Wearily she opened her eyes, only to realize that opening and closing her eyes made no difference. Shivering convulsively, Ahiru tried to get to her feet. However, her body seemed frozen with the cold. She couldn't even lift her head.

"Help!" She called out. Her quack was barely audible. The forest stayed silent, merely continuing to shift in the night wind.

A tear welled from her eye, dripping onto the cold ground. Out here in the forest, no one could hear her. No one would hear her as she froze to death, unable to even move.

"So! It looks as if Ahiru is in a bit of trouble. You can't even move can you?"

Ahiru gasped shallowly as she recognized the voice from her dreams.

"You… where am I?" Ahiru quacked faintly, shuddering as she spoke. Every breath of frigid air that she drew into her body burned painfully with cold. She felt certain that this could not be a dream. The cold was too intense for her to be dreaming.

The voice only responded, "You're not in much of a position to be asking such trivial questions. Perhaps it would be better to ask what you could do to get yourself out of this trouble?"

"Please…" She coughed, the ice inside her body paining her, "How can I…?" She panted, unable to finish her sentence.

The voice sighed and for a panicked moment, Ahiru thought that it might have vanished altogether. After a moment, however, the voice spoke again. "I suppose I could be generous this once. I am not in the habit of granting favors freely, however. Do not expect to be so lucky again."

Ahiru could now feel the warmth returning to her body, coursing through her veins. As she rose up out of the chill, her mind cleared and her fear subsided, giving way to sheer amazement. "How did you do that?" She quacked, looking disbelievingly at herself as if she might still be dreaming. The vividness of her surroundings assured her that this must be real.

"That is irrelevant." The brevity with which the voice responded suggested that it wished to remain silent about its abilities.

Sensing this, Ahiru backed away from the subject and then remembered that she had forgotten to express her gratitude. She did so vehemently, quacking loudly enough that the voice chuckled.

"You're quite welcome. May your troubles be far less perilous in the future," was its only response.

A few seconds of silence ensued while Ahiru looked about her, still unable to see in the darkness. How do I get home? She wondered, blinking in the darkness.

"You have another problem, do you not?" the voice asked casually, causing Ahiru to jump.

"W-well yes," she quacked nervously. "I don't know how to get home…" she trailed off, lost in thought. Fakir will be worried about me if I don't return by morning… -But will he? Will he care enough to go looking for me?

The voice chuckled ironically. "That does not seem like the true problem that is troubling you."

Ahiru stopped looking for a way home and turned instead in the direction of the voice, searching. She held her breath, wondering how the voice could possibly know what she was feeling.

"I am the one that dreamers often come to for answers and sometimes…" the voice paused dramatically, "-for solutions. This is no chance meeting. So tell me, what troubles you?"

Ahiru hesitated, knowing that her story might sound crazy, but that at least someone might listen to her for a while. Releasing a sigh, she began.

"I… I wonder if Fa- my friend... will even notice that I was gone." She quacked tremulously. "He's one of the only people who knows that I used to be a girl. He takes care of me now that I've returned to my original form. But I still wonder…" Her voice faded again as she tried not to cry.

"You wonder what?" The voice asked softly.

"I… I wonder if he still even understands me." She fought the urge to cry, but failed. "I don't think he can anymore." She sobbed. "He just forgot how."

The voice said nothing, allowing Ahiru to cry into her wing for a few seconds in silence. After a minute had passed, however, the voice murmured, "I can help you."

Ahiru's shock was so great that she coughed and choked on her own tears. "You can help me?" She spluttered.

The voice laughed. "Yes. -Quite easily, in fact. You were once a girl, you said?"

Ahiru sighed. "Yes. Once." She said, wiping her tears from her face sheepishly.

"Then I can make you become a human again, quite easily." The voice intoned quietly.

Ahiru's heart leapt in her chest. She looked down at the ground, willing her heart to calm itself. "Really?" she asked quietly.

"Are you absolutely certain that you wish to become a human again?"

"Of course!" She said enthusiastically. "Why…" She trailed off, lost in thought.

What would Fakir say if he saw her again in her human form? Would he be happy to see her? Would he even remember her face?

She had promised Fakir that she would be herself. She had promised to return her pendant to Mytho, the pendant that contained the Prince's final heart shard. Even if she didn't need Mytho's heart to change herself into a human and she was no longer obligated to end the story, wouldn't she still be breaking her promise to Fakir if she accepted this mysterious voice's offer?

Ahiru felt her throat close up.

But… if she became a human again, she could talk to Fakir; she could laugh with him again; she could argue with him; she could do everything she had longed to do since she returned to her original form. This offer was, in essence, the very thing she had dreamed of for the last four years.

Ahiru trembled, a held-back cry caught in her throat.

I'm sorry Fakir. Please understand.

"I-I want to be a human again."

A pause.

"Well... there is not much that you could give me that would make it worth my while, and as I said, I am not in the habit of granting favors, or wishes, freely. However, I suppose there is something that you could do that might be useful to me sooner or later…"

"Yes?" Ahiru said weakly. "I may not be able to do much, but whatever I can do, I will!"

The voice paused and seemed to consider her words. Then, it spoke again. "I will accept that. As such, I will call upon you some time from now to do something for me, though right now I do not know what that may be. If you do that thing, I will consider it payment for my assistance. If you agree to this, I will return you to your human form."

Ahiru, in her excitement, could only squeak, "Yes! Please, yes!"

The voice laughed at her eagerness. "Well, then… You must seal your promise until that day. Pluck a feather from each of your wings."

Bravely, Ahiru stood, braced herself, and tugged a feather from the tip of each wing. The sting caused tears to well up in her eyes, but Ahiru held each feather firmly and quacked, "Yes?"

"Now cross the feathers and touch them to your heart."

Hesitantly, Ahiru held a feather with each wing and crossed one over the other. Closing her eyes and hoping that it would be enough, she touched them to her downy chest. An odd sensation washed over her body, almost like a gust of wind, and then faded to nothing. When she looked down, the two feathers had disappeared.

She flapped her wings briefly, attempting to alleviate the stinging from the plucked feathers and then folded them against her back. "Thank you!" She quacked.

The woods creaked and rustled softly in the wind, still invisible in the pitch blackness. The voice chuckled lightly. "Very good."

Charon woke at the sound of crashing that accompanied the sound of the tower striking the second hour of the morning. The sleepy, middle-aged man entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, only to find a crazed Fakir tearing apart the contents of the cupboard above the leaking sink at the corner of the room.

"Fakir! What on earth-?" Charon gasped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"She's gone!" Fakir cried, tossing a tin of spices over his shoulder. "I can't find her!"

"Fakir, who is-"

"Ahiru! She disappeared! I can't find her anywhere, Charon!"

Fakir turned to Charon, white-knuckled fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders shook violently, his breathing ragged. Charon's breath left his body as he caught sight of Fakir's wild, fearful eyes. Charon had only seen that look on his adopted son's face once before: the day that Fakir came into Charon's care. On that first day, little Fakir had entered Charon's house at his bidding, shaking uncontrollably. His eyes darted about wildly as he looked for unknown terrors lurking in the shadows.

"Come on, Fakir. Let's go for a walk outside." Charon had said, taking Fakir's white-knuckled hand.

"No!" He had cried, pulling his hand from Charon's. "I don't wanna go outside!"

"Come now, you'll have to leave the house at some point. Besides, you can meet new people outside!" Charon tugged at Fakir's hand again, but this time Fakir yelled and dashed to a corner of the kitchen, curling up into a tiny ball.

Charon felt a pang of sympathy for the little child and knelt beside Fakir's tiny body as it shivered in the corner of the room. Trying to calm the child, Charon reached out and stroked Fakir's soft, black hair, but Fakir did not respond or lift his head from his arms.

"Look, Fakir. I know that it's hard for you. Losing both your parents… it's a terrible thing. But someday you'll have to move on. Going outside is just a little step toward feeling better." Charon waited for a response again, but Fakir did not move. The small child continued to shiver and hugged is knees even more tightly.

Charon hesitated, feeling his throat constrict with sadness and sympathy, but continued. "It was an accident, Fakir. The ravens must have flown in through the open door-"

"It wasn't an accident!" Fakir sobbed into his arms, his words muffled by his arms.

Charon paused, wondering if he had heard correctly. "Did you just say that it wasn't an accident?" an uneasy feeling had crept into his chest upon hearing Fakir's statement. He held his breath slightly, waiting for the young child's answer.

After a few moments, Fakir lifted his blotchy, tear-streaked face from his arms and cried out, "IT WASN'T AN ACCIDENT! It's my fault that they're dead!"

Charon reached out toward the nearby door frame to steady himself after Fakir's outburst. Fakir's eyes were wild with agony, causing shivers to run up and down Charon's back, before Fakir pressed his small face back into the cradle of his arms.

"Fakir, you're not saying that you left the door open… did you?" Charon asked slowly, a sense of foreboding growing within him as he did.

Fakir lifted his face from his arms again, but did not look Charon in the face. Instead he stared at the floor. "No. But the door was open because of me."

"What do you mean, Fakir? If you didn't open the door, then how did you cause it to be open?" Charon asked confusedly.

Fakir turned his eyes, searing with their inner pain, toward Charon's. "I wrote the story that made the door open. I wrote the story and the ravens came to attack me, but I couldn't defeat them. I'm the only reason that my parents are dead." His lip quivered again as he spoke. "If I hadn't written the story… It's my fault." He whispered again, pushing his face back into the cradle of his arms.

Charon suddenly grasped Fakir's shoulders and held him in a tight hug. A tear welling at the corner of his eye, Charon roughly said, "It's not your fault. You couldn't help what happened. Don't give up on living now. There's still so much you have to see in the world."

After a few stunned moments, Fakir wrapped his arms as far as he could around Charon's chest and clung to him, crying into Charon's shirt. There he stayed for an hour, clutching at Charon's shirt as they kneeled by the woodstove.

After that day, Charon took Fakir for a walk outside every day and showed him the park, took him to the shore of the great river that surrounded the prestigious Kinkan Academy of Fine Arts, located at the center of the town. Aside from an overwhelming, but understandable fear of ravens, Fakir soon developed into a healthy, happy young boy. Charon cherished his adopted son, supported him when he decided to attend Kinkan Academy, and raised him to the best of his abilities.

When he'd first discovered the strange scar than ran across the young boy's torso, from right shoulder to left hip, Charon had immediately remembered the story of The Prince and the Raven from his childhood. Staring at the pale scar tissue across the young boy's torso, so reminiscent of the wound received by the knight within the story, Charon told himself, do not be afraid. It's only a story after all.

So instead of denying the connection or ignoring the matter, he chose to tell Fakir of the story. He laughed inwardly when Fakir only giggled with delight as he heard the tale, and Charon soon began reading him fairytales and stories filled with magic. Fakir always seemed so happy when he heard those stories, and Charon would do anything to hear the young boy laugh.

Watching Fakir grow up into a young man, excelling in all of his classes and becoming very popular among the young girls, Charon had thought that he would never see that same look of fear and agony on his adopted son's face ever again.

And yet, the look on Fakir's face was unmistakable. All of the terror and pain that he had felt at his parents deaths had returned tenfold. Charon's heart ached with sadness as he saw Fakir return his attention to the cabinet, throwing out its contents frantically. Charon knew that Fakir had shut him out long ago. Now, Charon knew that he could no longer comfort Fakir with a single embrace. He no longer knew how to comfort Fakir, and he could not think of a way to even lessen the young man's grief.

However… there had been a girl once. -A girl with hair the color of autumn leaves whom he had seen talking with Fakir once or twice. Those were some of the first times when Charon had ever seen Fakir truly smile with all his heart. Charon felt sure that if the red-haired girl was here, she could have comforted Fakir somehow. If Fakir could smile at her with so much happiness in his eyes, that girl must have been special in some small way.

"Hey!" Charon started as Fakir suddenly threw down the last tin of black tea, scattering its contents across the floor, sprinted out of the kitchen, and opened the door that led outside.

"Fakir! Where are you-?" Charon ran after him, but Fakir had already disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Ahiru shivered as a pelting wave of freezing rain swept through the forest, immediately drenching her feathered body. It seemed as if a presence before her had dissipated, like smoke into the sky, leaving an almost undetectable trace.

"Hello?" She called out, waiting for the voice to tell her what to do. Only silence met her ears. Despair began to sweep through her, as she realized that somehow, her promise must not have been good enough. Perhaps her decision to break her promise to Fakir made her promises weaker somehow… tainted, even. Ahiru's heart seized in her chest and she bent her bill to her downy chest, shuddering with a single sob.

Then, a distant whisper brushed across her senses.

"You have your wish."

"AHIRU!"

Fakir stumbled into the forest, branches tearing at his face and clothes. His jet black hair had come loose from its tie and whipped out behind him as he called Ahiru's name again and again. Despite the fact that he could see nothing in the absolute darkness of the night, he plunged onward through the woods.

A white, blinding panic enveloped his mind, powered by the mere thought that he was the one who had caused Ahiru to disappear, perhaps forever.

Ahiru, Ahiru, Ahiru… He thought over and over in his mind, searching for a flash of color or the sound of flapping in the night. Suddenly, a tree root caught at his foot and Fakir fell across the forest floor, another tree root crushing the air from his lungs.

Struggling to breathe, Fakir shuddered as icy raindrops began to splash across his body. "Ahiru…" Fakir whispered before his eyes slid voluntarily shut and blackness enveloped his tired mind.

Ahiru shut her eyes and opened them, trying to see through the darkness and the torrents of rain. The wind blew against her harshly, trying to pull her through the night. She flapped her wings frantically against the wind, feeling the cold rain stealing the warmth from her tiny body. "Why haven't I turned back into a human?" She cried, her quacks lost in the raucous wind. She tried to dig her webbed feet into the ground, but the rain had made it slippery with mud. In desperation, Ahiru tried to throw herself to the ground, but a violent gust of wind caught her opened wings and pulled her feet off the ground. Ahiru had no time to react before she plunged deep into a body of water, the cold shocking her body into numbness.

Fakir… I guess I'll never get to see him again. I wonder if he'd have been happy to see me… Ahiru's mind drifted resignedly as she sank deeper and deeper.

Then a tingling sensation began to spread through her body. Ahiru's eyes opened wide in the black water and she thought, Water! That's it!

The sensations grew into a single feeling of warmth and Ahiru felt as if her entire being was breathing in and expanding. She laughed with joy; she had almost forgotten that tickling warm feeling. She had thought that she'd never feel it again. However, her attempt at laughter only made her aware of the burning in her lungs and her primal instincts took over. Kicking violently, Ahiru urgently reached out for the surface, but her legs passed through the water with barely any resistance. The surface seemed so far away, and her webbed feet had disappeared, no longer able to propel her through the water. Ahiru kicked harder, slowly approaching the surface, with her lungs screaming for air. The cold bit into her bare skin, now defenseless against the chill of the water without the protection of feathers. A foggy curtain of darkness began to lower across her vision just a few feet from the surface.

Fakir! She thought desperately and gave one last kick.

A/N: I'm sorry! I know this chapter is pretty short and there hasn't been much Ahiru/Fakir fluff yet, but chapter six will be their reunion, so I think you'll all be satisfied. (Hopefully.) I'll try to crank out the next two chapters as fast as I can to make up for the extraordinarily long wait on this one. –And of course she survives. She's Ahiru. She can do anything.

:3

Please review! (-And constructive criticism is always welcome!)

EDIT: This chapter has been slightly revised for the sake of continuity later in the story.


	5. Changes

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Five: Changes**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

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_Fakir… _

_Fakir……._

_Fakir…………._

Rain pattered delicately on the roof directly above her head. It had lessened in force since the previous night, but continued determinedly, beating a steady rhythm throughout the small room. Ahiru shifted beneath the soft linen sheets and drew the blankets further up her body, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips. Slowly, as the rain patterns changed and intensified, she opened her eyes.

She sat up groggily to peer over the rim of her basket at Fakir, hoping that she might catch a glimpse of him still sleeping. However, she instead found herself looking through a mullioned window at the bleak, rainy world on the other side.

"_QUA_-!" She began, only to stop at the sound of her own human voice.

"My voice…" She whispered, a hand at her mouth. Her voice had gotten… lower. -Which wasn't saying much, but her voice now had a slightly deeper, matured resonance.

A sound at the far right corner of the room made Ahiru jump, and she turned just in time to see a woman wearing a simple lavender-colored dress enter the room. She bore a small bundle in her arms which she shifted to one side to quickly straighten her starched white apron. Her hair, a dark color that suggested a deep blue-purple was coiled high on top of her head and wrapped in a lace-edged cloth.

"Ah, good morning! I was wondering when you might wake up," the woman chattered, her wide, kind eyes fixed on Ahiru's face.

"My name is Ebine! My, my, my, when we found you in the woods, we weren't sure if you would make it. You almost drowned!"

Ahiru's eyes widened as she finally remembered Ebine's face. -Ebine, the woman who owned the restaurant that Ahiru and Mytho had once encountered during a search for drinking water to give to Rue. Ebine, whose wounded heart had drawn Mytho's feeling of loneliness to her in the wake of her husband's death, in an attempt to stifle her pain. When Ahiru had first met her, Ebine had seemed cheery and energetic, bustling about her restaurant and preparing food for her and Mytho. However, when Ahiru thought back to the first few moments of their meeting, she thought she could see a sort of sadness and desperation that the grieving woman had sought to conceal with her happy façade and her wide smile. However, there was no sadness in Ebine's smile now.

The woman, entering what must now be her mid-thirties, strode toward Ahiru's bed and deposited a bundle of clothing gently on the bedside table.

"Here are some clothes for you to wear. When you feel well enough, you can come downstairs, have a bite to eat, and tell me about who you are and how you came to be in the middle of the woods during such a storm as this. Does that sound good?"

Ahiru nodded her head, trying to smile and thank Ebine with her eyes. She didn't trust herself to speak again without her voice cracking.

Ebine smiled kindly and then exited the room, a smile on her face. Ahiru let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Eyes fixed on the clothes on her bedside table, she pulled back the covers and slipped out of the small bed. However, unused to standing on her two human feet, she collapsed upon the cold, wooden floor with a squeak.

Slowly she grasped the bedpost and used it to pull herself upright, wobbling as she tried to become accustomed to the feel of being human again. She clutched the bedpost until she felt absolutely certain that she could stand on her own. Looking about the room, Ahiru observed the clean white and pastel-pink flower patterns on the walls, and an old, faded dresser-vanity opposite the bed. Ahiru carefully folded the covers of the bed back into place and smoothed the wrinkles from the bed, trying to work the stiffness from her hands which she had not used in such a long time. Then, taking a deep breath, Ahiru took five shaking steps toward the dresser, her heart beating rapidly as she stepped into view of the mirror.

Ahiru blinked in surprise and hesitantly extended a trembling hand to touch that of the shining blue-eyed girl who stared back at her from the other side of the mirror. Her hair, still the color of autumn leaves, extended to her waist, wrapping about her slender body like a blanket of flames. Her bangs had grown longer since she had been a human, curling about her astonished face in wisps and accenting her petite, rose-tinged lips. Her face had lost its childhood roundness, now showing her soft but determined jaw line, the delicate slant of her nose, and the curve of her cheekbones. Her blue eyes remained the same shining blue, the only true reminder of who she had once been. Her mouth dropped open and she lifted a hand to her face, watching as her mirror image did the same. She brushed her fingertips over her lips, her nose, and her cheeks, trying to tell herself that they were hers, and not some stranger's facial features.

Then she became aware of an unfamiliar weight about her upper torso and a very slight resistance that brushed against the insides of her upper arms when she raised them to touch her face.

Looking down, Ahiru noticed the white cotton nightgown that she was wearing and the way it draped over the swell of her chest. Eyes wide, Ahiru cupped her breasts in her hands, her mouth falling open a second time. She was surprised at the feeling of their weight and resistance against her palms. When she had last assumed her human form, her breasts had been virtually nonexistent. Having them now, so suddenly, made Ahiru feel unbalanced and clumsy (or even more so than she had been). She just hadn't noticed the reason for her decreased ability to balance.

Ahiru allowed her hands to fall to her side, scanning her image one more time. Again and again she told herself that in the four years that she had been a duck she must have also aged as a human. Acknowledging that fact sounded easy, but when faced with her own changed physical appearance, Ahiru found it difficult to accept herself as she now was.

_Ebine didn't even recognize me from when I visited her restaurant all those years ago._ Ahiru thought, returning to the bed and crawling across it to gaze sadly out of the rainy window. _Well, I did only visit once. I don't suppose she remembers every customer that she's ever had. But even so, will any of the others recognize me when I see them again? Will Rue, or Mytho, or Pique, or Lilie remember me? _

_Will Fakir remember me?_

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Charon paced the kitchen, a hand over his mouth. His distressed eyes moved from object to object about the room, never resting on any one thing for more than a second. He felt as if his heart was being slowly and painfully squeezed as the seconds ticked by. The grandfather clock in the hallway beyond the kitchen door chimed twice, marking the hour of the afternoon. Faintly, the pounding of the rain on the distant roof overhead sounded throughout the household.

Fakir had not returned home last night, after his panic in the kitchen. Since then, Charon had managed to clean up a small portion of the mess. However, worrying for Fakir had exhausted him quickly, and Charon found himself without the energy to continue. Charon now sighed heavily in an effort to alleviate the anxious contractions of his heart, and seated himself in a kitchen chair amidst the chaos.

The rain had also not stopped since it began the night before. It continued to drum a steady beat on the town of Kinkan, and did nothing to mitigate Charon's fears.

Fakir must be out in the rain somewhere right now, searching for that duck. The one that he spoke to, addressing it as if it were a human being. Charon had never seen Fakir love something with all his heart in the way he had loved that duck. It was a pity that it was only a little duck, who could never understand the enormity and the depth of Fakir's love, and who could not reciprocate his friendly affections. It was, after all, only a duck; a dumb animal without the capacity to comprehend the complexity of the human heart. Charon wished, chagrined, that Fakir could have invested his affections in a more worthy subject, but he knew at the same time that no girl from Kinkan Town would suit Fakir. Fakir needed someone… different; someone who could appreciate his determination and devotion, and love him entirely. He needed someone to whom he could show his true face, and not the harsh, cold face that he usually reserved for all the girls who fawned over him at the academy. However, it seemed that the only one to whom Fakir ever showed his true face was that duck.

However, there were times when Charon might enter the kitchen in the morning and see Fakir talking animatedly to the duck, with the duck listening wide-eyed, captivated by Fakir's voice. At those times, Charon had the distinct feeling that perhaps the duck understood human feelings far more than he had given it credit. But that was impossible, he knew, because after the defeat of the monster raven, all animals within Kinkan Town resumed their former wild, unintelligent states and could no longer speak or understand human language. So the look of attentive, eagerness on the duck's face must have been simply a figment of his imagination.

Charon sighed again and cradled his head in his hands, hoping desperately that Fakir would return soon.

A shuffling of sodden footsteps outside the outer door suddenly roused Charon from his worried thoughts and he sprang out of his chair, praying that it would be Fakir at the door. The visitor had barely the time to knock before Charon swung open the door, almost breathless.

"Charon?" Mytho said in his quiet voice, his features worried. Rue stepped up beside him, looking with apprehension at the anxiety and fear written on Charon's aged face. Their hair clung to the sides of their faces, wet with the rain.

Charon's whole body sagged, but he sighed and waved toward the interior of the house. "Come in." He murmured wearily.

Mytho put his arm around Rue in a supportive gesture and steered her inside. Charon tiredly seated himself in the kitchen chair once again.

As Mytho and Rue entered the kitchen, they each stopped and stared at the scene before them. Rue's look of apprehension increased as she looked about the kitchen. Mytho's arm around her waist tightened as he spoke.

"Charon, is Fakir in? Rue wanted to apologize-"

"-What in the world happened here?" Rue cut in, looking shocked.

Charon stood slowly, feeling drained of energy. "Fakir did this." He said, waving a hand at the boxes and tins and their contents strewn across the table and the floor.

Rue's mouth fell open and her face paled. "I was only trying to get him to be responsible yesterday! I didn't mean for him to get this upset when I said-"

Charon shook his head violently, dropping wearily back into his seat. "It's nothing that you said, young miss. It's that duck of his; _Ahiru_, he calls her."

Mytho and Rue's eyes both snapped to Charon's face upon hearing Ahiru's name. They stood stone still, breaths held as they waited for Charon to overcome his fatigue and continue.

"That duck seems to have disappeared last night. Fakir… he panicked and went outside looking for her." Charon replaced his head in his hands. "He hasn't returned since he left late last night."

Rue looked toward the door with a look of distress. Mytho observed Charon's shaking hands, his eyes grim. Each of them could distinctly hear the distant pattering of the rain on the muddy street outside.

"Fakir always loved that duck." Charon now said, his voice rough. Mytho said nothing and Rue's distressed look only grew. Each knew the truth of Charon's statement, although Charon himself had no knowledge of its significance.

Mytho stepped forward, causing Charon to look up.

"I will find him, if you wish."

Charon looked into Mytho's face, searching his eyes, but after a moment he cradled his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"It's no use. He could be anywhere in the town. Besides, he won't return until he's found that duck."

Mytho closed his eyes, a small, calm smile of acceptance on his face. He understood his friend's devotion to Ahiru, even if Fakir himself did not. Mytho picked up the items scattered about the kitchen and began to replace them in the cupboards.

"We will stay here with you and wait for his return."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ahiru peered through the window to the world outside, whose colors had faded to monochrome in the flat, pale light of the rain clouds in the sky. Directly below her window, a wooden porch held several small dining tables, some of whose tablecloths had been neglected and left out in the rain. A lone drinking glass collected water as it sat at the far end of one of the tables bearing a red and white-checkered tablecloth. Several potted plants balancing on the railing of the porch shifted and bounced beneath the weight of the fat raindrops. They seemed as if they were leaning and reaching out for the dark green forest that stood just beyond the clearing which Ebine's restaurant occupied. Just beyond the forest, Ahiru knew the town lay, quiet and peaceful, listening to the lull of the rain on its shingled rooftops. Fakir was there somewhere, perhaps searching for her, perhaps waiting for the rain to stop before he went out searching, perhaps not caring about where she was. Ahiru tried to picture his face, wondering if she could somehow see what he was doing now merely by thinking of him and wishing with all her heart.

She folded her arms over the window sill and watched the rain crawl down the diamond-shaped panes of the window before her. She rested her chin on the backs of her hands with a little laugh, wondering why her thoughts always circled back to Fakir.

_I've spent so much time with him, living with him for the past three… no, four years. I must not be used to not having seen him for so long._ She remembered with a painful jolt how he had reminded her of the fourth anniversary of their victory the other morning at breakfast. She already missed having breakfast with him.

_I've gotten used to being near him. I guess I had nothing else to think of when I was a duck. I'll just have to think about other things, now that I'm human again… But I just hope that he's okay right now. _She shifted so that she could lay her head across her arm and closed her eyes with a small smile on her lips.

_I'll be back soon, Fakir…_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Rue and Mytho sent Charon to bed, promising to rouse him as soon as Fakir appeared. Charon went hesitantly, barely able to stay awake, let alone argue with Mytho as he gently guided Charon up the stairs and toward his bedroom.

When Mytho descended, he rejoined Rue as they cleaned up the kitchen. She turned to him with a worried look on her face, her face pale.

"Mytho…" She began, her hands shaking very slightly as it held a tin of tea leaves. Mytho strode toward her and took the tin from her, replacing it on the shelf that was too high for her to reach.

"Yes?" he said, pulling his back and turning to pick up another item from the floor.

Rue remained motionless, clasping her pale hands together in worry. "Ahiru has disappeared before, hasn't she? Fakir said that she'd go wandering off to take a nap in the sun or go catch fish sometimes, and he wouldn't know where she'd gone. But he never worried like _this_." She gestured to what was left of the mess in the kitchen.

Mytho picked up a jar of spice and screwed on its misplaced cap, only saying, "Yes?"

Rue reached up and twisted a strand of her hair briefly before looking away, her features still worried. After a moment, she looked back at Mytho who was still cleaning the kitchen.

"How can you be so calm about this, Mytho? You're always calm about everything, but this is your best friend that we're talking about! Why aren't you more concerned?"

Mytho gazed up at her with his calm golden eyes, listening. "What are you wondering about?"

Rue took a breath and continued, "Ahiru may have disappeared before, but Fakir never worried about it like this." She looked to Mytho, waiting for a response but his eyes showed that he was still waiting for her to complete her thought.

"What could possibly have happened to Ahiru this time that Fakir would panic like this? Aren't you worried that something might really have happened to Ahiru?" She asked softly. She glanced away, her eyes darting about the disturbed kitchen with frustration. "Why aren't you out looking for Fakir right now?" she finally said, her eyes set on his face.

Mytho stood up and looked straight into her crimson eyes as he spoke. "Fakir must learn to exist by his own power." His words were calm and even. "I trust that he'll be alright. And I'm sure that Ahiru is fine as well." Mytho stated simply, smiling.

Puzzled, Rue eyed Mytho's face, framed by his nearly luminescent cloud-colored hair. She smiled and sighed, stepping toward him. "I don't understand you sometimes, but every time I'm angry or worried, you always manage to calm me somehow." She stood close to Mytho, looking up into his moon-pale face. A smile played at her lips as she looked at him. "How do you do it? How is it that you can make me feel so calm?"

Mytho gazed down into her eyes, a gentle smile of his own forming on his face. "Who knows?" He then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Rue's eyes remained closed as she savored the moment, even after Mytho gently pulled back. When she reopened her eyes, her whole body relaxed and she smiled, Mytho having drained away her anxiety.

"So do you really think they'll be alright?" she asked softly, a contented smile on her lips.

Mytho nodded and put another jar of herbs back into the cupboard. They worked another twenty minutes in silence, sweeping the last of the spilled spices and lentils and other kitchen goods into the hall and then into the street.

Rue yawned as she reentered the kitchen, replacing the broom by the woodstove.

Mytho caught her hand as she drew nearer and spun her in his arms, causing her to giggle with surprise. In the hall the grandfather clock struck four in the afternoon and Rue pulled away from Mytho's embrace somewhat reluctantly.

"I have an evening class tonight. I'll need to go and get ready. Are you going to stay here and wait for him?" She donned her raincoat as she spoke.

Mytho nodded, saying, "I'll stay. Enjoy your class tonight." Rue darted to him to receive a goodbye kiss and then hurried toward the door. However, before she could leave, the door creaked open and Fakir staggered into the kitchen.

Rue gasped as Fakir stumbled past her, hardly seeing her. His clothes were torn by branches and bushes in the forest and completely soaked. His hair, untied and falling forward over his shoulders, dripped on the wooden floor and masked his dirty and scratched face. Mytho watched Fakir and said nothing.

Fakir barely raised his eyes to meet Mytho's gaze before he took another step forward and collapsed.

Mytho, faster than one could blink, sprang forward to catch his friend. Fakir's head bent forward, his body shaking. He barely had the strength to stand.

Mouth set in a grim but determined line, Mytho slung one of Fakir's arms around his neck and looped his arm around Fakir's torso, supporting him. After a moment he looked toward Rue who stood stone still by the door, her raincoat slipping from one shoulder. Rue's mouth hung open with horror as she stared. At Mytho's look, she jumped and quickly whispered, "I'll get Charon." She sprang out of the kitchen and upstairs, unable to bear seeing her verbal nemesis in such a weakened state.

After struggling for several minutes, Mytho managed to lever Fakir up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Charon appeared, followed by Rue. Simultaneous worry and relief lined his face as he rushed toward his son. "Fakir-!" He began, only to stop short upon registering Fakir's disheveled appearance. After recovering from his initial reaction, Charon quickly joined Mytho supporting Fakir and they led him to his room.

The wooden floor creaked with age as the three entered Fakir's room and laid him on his bed. Charon began to remove Fakir's muddy shoes, but Mytho stopped him.

"Don't worry, Fakir is home now. You should go back to bed and get some rest. I'll take care of him."

Charon smiled and thanked Mytho, exiting the bedroom quietly.

Mytho watched Charon leave, but no sooner had Charon left the room when Mytho felt a tug at his shirt. He turned back to find that Fakir had pushed himself onto his elbow and grabbed the hem of Mytho's shirt.

"Fakir?" He studied Fakir's wild eyes. "What happened?" He asked quietly, pulling off Fakir's shoes.

Fakir closed his eyes, pain written across his face. Mytho paused as Fakir reached into his shirt and pulled out a damp piece of paper. Mytho took the piece of paper from Fakir's shaking hand and unfolded it.

The inky letters had all smudged across the page, making the first half of the page unreadable, but the bottom half of the paper was still clearly readable.

Mytho's eyes scanned the lines of Fakir's rushed handwriting, his expression unreadable. His eyebrows rose slightly upon reaching the last sentence.

"_And then she disappeared…"_

Mytho looked back at Fakir. He had curled in on himself, covering his face with his hands. Trying to keep the shaking from his voice, Fakir whispered, "I tried to make her human again. I tried… but I got to the last sentence and my pen…" He stopped as his entire body clenched with a silent sob and released with a shuddering breath. "My pen wouldn't move. She's gone now, because of me."

Mytho stood in silence for a few moments, before an understanding smile formed on his face. He knelt by Fakir's bed and whispered into his friend's ear, "Don't worry. She will come back. She would never disappear forever. Trust in your Ahiru."

Fakir only shuddered once more before becoming quiet and drifting off into dreamless sleep with a last shaking sigh. Mytho smiled his gentle smile and finished changing the unconscious Fakir into his nightclothes, tucking his friend into the bed like a child.

Making his way to the door that led into the hallway, Mytho made to leave. However, before he exited the room, Mytho turned in the doorway and smiled.

"Congratulations, Fakir. You finally did it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** I'm so sorry everyone! I haven't updated for so long! I took forever to finish this chapter because I needed certain things to happen and that was taking forever. The chapter just dragged on and on and I couldn't bring myself to post it when I was this dissatisfied with it. In the end I realized that I'd have to cut part of this chapter and relegate it to the next chapter, just so everything could happen as it should. The pacing will be more even this way. Also, this worked out better because this way the cliffhanger at the end of the chapter was not necessary. So I won't leave you all hanging if I suddenly disappear for a month or two. ;) But I promise I'll stay put and post the next chapter (Fakir and Ahiru's reunion, _finally_!) ASAP. After all, there's only so much summer left!

_**Please read and review!**_There's nothing as encouraging and motivational as feedback. Let me know if you like/dislike where the story is going, any of your insights into the story, speculations on symbolism, plot, characters, anything. I'd love to hear from you all.

See you soon! -


	6. Warm Welcome

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Six: Warm Welcome**

**Note: **Hold on tight! This is gonna be a _loooooong_ chapter. I had to put part of the previous chapter into this one, so please be patient. I apologize for the excessive drama. And don't mind Rue's profanity. She's a fiery one. ;)

Enjoy the fluff! ^-^

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

Rain continued to drum on the roof over Ahiru's head as she gazed out of the window in Ebine's restaurant. She suddenly spotted motion in the corner of her eye and glanced down through the window in time to see Ebine appear on the porch, collecting the sodden tablecloths before they were stained by the rain. The sight of Ebine reminded Ahiru of Ebine's suggestion that she come downstairs, and her offer of food.

Ahiru's memories of Ebine's food were not promising, the food having been served cold and with scarcely any seasoning. However, if the buzz of customers downstairs was any indication, Ahiru felt compelled to overlook her previous experience in Ebine's restaurant.

Turning away from the window, Ahiru caught sight of the bundle of clothing that Ebine had left for her and sprang from the bed, her stomach growling hungrily. She needed to be dressed before she could go downstairs.

It felt odd to dress herself after having had feathers to clothe and protect her for so long. Right now she felt less clothed when dressed in the simple, light blue dress that Ebine had given her than when she had worn no clothes at all as a duck.

Tying the bow at the back of the dress with fumbling, graceless fingers, Ahiru stood in front of the mirror again, still trying to become accustomed to her new appearance. Smoothing her long hair back into a loose braid as best she could manage and adjusting the puffed sleeves of the dress, Ahiru gave herself a bright smile for courage before she turned toward the door and opened it into the hallway beyond. Stepping as quietly and gracefully as she could down the stairs, Ahiru listened to the growing contented chatter of the restaurant patrons in the distance.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ahiru found herself in Ebine's kitchen. It was lined with three ovens in a row, complete with gas-lit stovetops, a wide sink, and numerous cabinets. Various pots of sauces and soups bubbled contentedly atop the stoves, radiating a heat that gave Ahiru courage as well as warmth.

Just as Ahiru was about to approach the stoves to see what Ebine had cooking for her guests, Ebine bustled into the kitchen, her hands full of damp herbs, presumably from an outside garden. Her oddly-colored hair dripped water as she smiled at Ahiru while sprinkling the herbs into one of the pots atop a stove.

"Ah, how are you feeling now? Are you hungry?" She asked excitedly, already moving to fetch a bowl from a nearby wooden cabinet.

Ahiru took a deep breath and forced herself to speak "I'm feeling much better now, thank you." She paused, still becoming accustomed to her new voice.

"…I-!" She began, but was stopped by Ebine when the insistent woman thrust a steaming hot bowl of soup into Ahiru's hands and gestured for her to sit. Ebine then resumed bustling about the kitchen.

"Yes?" She called, urging Ahiru to continue. Ahiru quickly swallowed her spoonful of soup and smiled as it warmed her body with its heat. Its flavor reminded her of the afternoons when she was sick and Fakir would make her his delicious vegetable broth soup. He'd hold her feathered head up so that she could sip directly from the bowl, chuckling, _"Idiot. You shouldn't have gone out and played in the rain if you didn't want to get sick. And now I've got to care for you –and I don't even know if soup is good for ducks when they're sick! You silly idiot, Ahiru. I'm the worst person you could possibly have chosen to take care of you."_

Ahiru smiled fondly as the memory played in her head and murmured, "This soup is delicious, Ebine. -And thank you so much for taking care of me. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Ebine laughed and held up her hands, smiling. "Thank you very much. And don't worry about repaying me! I'm just happy to have another person to feed." Ahiru giggled, remembering her first frightening encounter with the insistent Ebine. Now, however, she had no fear that Ebine would force her to eat until she burst. Just then, Ebine approached Ahiru at the table and looked toward Ahiru with a smile. "So, would you like to tell me who you are and how you ended up out there in the forest?"

Ahiru looked suddenly down at her bowl of soup, wondering about the same things herself. However, she opened her mouth after a moment, wanting to at least be able to give Ebine her name.

"My name is Ahiru and… I don't really know how I got into the forest. I was just _there_."

Ebine smiled and turned to open the middle oven, lifting out a tray of steaming meat and vegetables and placed it on the worn wooden table at the center of the kitchen. "That's a pretty name. So you don't remember at all how you got out into the forest?"

Ahiru sadly shook her head. "No." she responded quietly. Ebine only smiled as she hurried to find a platter for the meat. "Well, I'm sure you'll remember at some point. You may stay here as long as you'd like."

Ahiru nodded silently and thought back to her transformation in the forest. She felt as if she had been _brought_ there for some reason. But she couldn't remember anything other than the cold she had felt, and the voice from her dream, and… _Her dream!_

Ahiru uttered a tiny gasp when she thought of her dream, the one she'd been having right before she woke in the forest. She had been _running_ in her dream… Ahiru, despite herself, smiled at the thought. _I must have sleep-walked, so to speak, into the forest somehow_, she thought, a hand covering her smile. Fakir would be angry with her for being so mindless as to sleepwalk off into the forest, she knew. She could already picture his face of disbelief and annoyance as she told him the story. However, at that thought her smile faded. She had yet to return to him in the first place. Sighing, Ahiru finished her soup and congratulated herself for remembering how to use a spoon. She wiggled her fingers back and forth, smiling again a little as they responded immediately to her commands. She was readapting to her new body more quickly than she had expected.

"Um, Ebine?" Ahiru asked timidly, setting aside her finished bowl of soup.

"Would you like some more?" Ebine asked cheerily, beginning to slice and arrange the meat on a platter.

Ahiru shook her head firmly. "No thank you, although it was delicious. I was just wondering… can I help you with anything here? You look like you could use a hand." Ahiru hoped with all her heart that she was not becoming too ambitious with her motor skills.

Ebine used her wrist to swipe a strand of her hair out of her eyes, trying not to smear her dirty hands over her face. "Ah, well my niece usually helps with the serving, but she's been out for the past few hours, so perhaps you wouldn't mind?"

Ahiru smiled brightly and tried to stand up tall. "Of course I wouldn't mind! What would you like me to do?"

Ebine had already hurried to the leftmost stovetop where a pot had begun to boil over, causing the stove's flames to leap and sizzle below.

"Ahhh, you can take that platter to the guests at the large table nearest the door." She called hurriedly over her shoulder as she stirred the contents of the pot.

Ahiru cheerfully picked up the tray and moved toward the door that led into the dining room. Just before she reached the door, however, she slowed.

_What am I doing here? I should be getting back to Fakir! He must know that I've gone missing by now…_

Ahiru looked down at the floor ahead of her as she sped up and entered the dining room thinking sadly, _I don't think I'm ready to face him yet. What if he's mad at me for not keeping my promise? I know that my real self is a duck, but I've never really felt like a duck… _

She formed a smile as she reached the table that had ordered the platter that she was carrying.

"Here you are!" She chirped brightly, setting the platter down on the table with a smile. The guests smiled at her, almost surprised by her cheeriness, and then returned to their food and chatter. Ahiru smiled, feeling glad that she had not dropped the platter on her way to the table.

_Perhaps I am getting better at being human, s_he thought happily as she returned to the kitchen to receive another platter from Ebine. As she walked down the rows of tables with her next platter, the door at the front of the restaurant opened. The tiny brass door bell over the doorframe rang with a twinkling noise and Ahiru, who had been concentrating on not tripping or dropping the tray, looked quickly toward the door. A young man with light blond hair and fair skin stepped over the threshold, appearing to be studying something in his hand. Something about his presence drew Ahiru's gaze to him, almost like an unseen magnet. Then, as the stranger looked up and her eyes met his, inside of her twinged and she lost her concentration.

He stared into her eyes from across the room, subtly tucking the object that he had held in his hand back into his shirt. After a few moments, Ahiru became aware that she had come to a complete stop in the middle of the restaurant. A blush rose suddenly in her cheeks and she averted her eyes quickly, jumping into action.

However, as she began to move, one of her feet got in the way of the other and, as if in slow motion, Ahiru yelped and felt herself begin to fall, the tray of food tipping perilously in her hands as she neared the floor. _And I thought I was getting good at this… _she thought distantly, closing her eyes before the impact. –And yet, after several seconds, she never touched the ground. No clang sounded as the tray of food hit the floor.

Hesitantly opening her eyes, Ahiru found herself staring into a pair of deep, piercingly green eyes. The name rose to her lips faster than she could think: _Fakir_. Ahiru's heart inexplicably burst into action, beating rapidly within her chest. She almost said his name aloud, when she noticed the blonde strands of hair framing the fair skin. This wasn't Fakir.

The knowledge that it wasn't Fakir didn't stop her heart from sputtering nervously against her ribcage at the sudden proximity of the stranger. She quickly became aware of his arm wrapped around her waist, and that the entire restaurant had gone completely silent. All eyes were on the blond stranger who had caught Ahiru before she fell. Averting her eyes quickly, she noticed that he had caught her with one arm and with the other he had managed to catch the tray of food, balancing it perfectly.

After what seemed like hours of silence, the restaurant suddenly burst into applause, some of the guests even rising to their feet with bright smiles on their faces.

"Miss?" he asked softly amid the applause, lifting her up to that she could stand on her own. Ahiru jumped when he spoke, her eyes snapping back to his face. He had a smooth jaw line and a delicate, straight nose, framed by the strands of blonde hair that curved in toward his face. His face seemed to be the very essence of royalty, beautiful, clean, and almost haughty. But his green eyes…

"Miss?" The stranger repeated again, bringing Ahiru back from her dazed reverie.

"_Qua_- sorry!" She bowed apologetically but she still felt dizzy and stumbled as she did so.

The young man laughed and caught her hand, supporting her. "That's alright. Do you usually have difficulty balancing when you walk?"

Ahiru looked up at him briefly and then averted her eyes before his green ones could meet hers. "Sometimes," She admitted shyly.

Ebine appeared at Ahiru's elbow and Ahiru turned, glad of an excuse to escape the stranger's entrancingly familiar, green eyes.

"Ahiru! Are you alright?"

Ahiru quickly nodded and gestured to the new visitor. Ebine's face broke into a wide smile. "Ah, how brave and gentlemanly you are! Would you like a table?"

The stranger nodded with a kind smile and Ebine smiled even wider. Ahiru still tried to look away as his head began to turn toward her, sure that he was looking at her. Ebine, seeing his glance toward Ahiru, laughed, making both of them look up suddenly at her. Her eyes flicked from Ahiru's blush to the stranger's fair face. "Ahiru," Ebine turned to her, "Why don't you sit with this young gentleman and keep him company? -If that's alright with you, young sir", she smiled at him with mischievous eyes. Ahiru's heart jumped as the stranger chuckled, and responded, "That's alright by me if the young lady wouldn't mind." He turned toward Ahiru who made the mistake of meeting his eyes a second time. For a moment she was distracted by the uncanny familiarity of the stranger's eyes, reminded of Fakir, but she looked down quickly and saw the platter of food in his hands that she and Ebine had both forgotten. "Ah, it's fine with me, but I need to take that tray to the other guests-"Ahiru started to say, but Ebine immediately took the tray from the stranger's hands and, faster than lightning, delivered the food to the guests and returned to usher them both to a table at the corner of the restaurant. The table sat next to the rainy window, secluded and private from the rest of the restaurant. The table was spread with a clean white tablecloth, sporting a small blooming flower in a tiny vase at its center.

Ahiru, trying hurriedly to comply with Ebine's wishes, awkwardly seated herself, tripping on the hem of her dress halfway down and sprawling into her seat. The stranger merely smiled and gracefully seated himself across from her, settling into a comfortable position and crossing his arms.

Ebine smiled widely and patted her apron in excitement. "You two stay here and talk and I'll be right back with some drinks for you both." She barely concealed a giggle and rushed back into the kitchen, her face alight with happiness at another mouth to feed.

Ahiru took a deep breath and looked across the table at the stranger out of the corner of her eyes. She squeaked and turned her head away when she realized that he was watching her which only caused him to chuckle under his breath. Ahiru was sure that she was merely thinking too much of Fakir and therefore was only imagining the similarity between his eyes and the eyes of the stranger who sat across the table from her. Besides, the stranger's eyes were a slightly paler shade of green than Fakir's intense, dark, pensive eyes.

The stranger spoke suddenly, extending a hand to her across the table. "My name is Ranulf. And you are?"

Ahiru shook his hand, forcing herself to speak, her response sounding strained and nervous, "Ahiru."

Ebine suddenly reappeared, bearing two long-stemmed glasses, a pitcher of water, and a large smile. "Here you are!" she said cheerily, placing the glasses upright on the table and pouring water into them.

"Is there anything that I can get you to eat? We have…" and Ebine began to list off dishes enthusiastically. This gave Ahiru time to further study the Ranulf's face while he was busy trying to convince Ebine that he didn't want anything more than a small, simple fruit tart while he waited out the storm.

His features certainly did seem to have an air of royalty, and he held himself with an easy, charming grace, but there was still a hint of youth in his voice and a certain softness in his jaw. _He must be around Fakir's age…_ she thought distantly.

Ebine finally gave Ranulf a somewhat melancholy smile and hurried off to the kitchen to fetch him a slice of fruit tart.

Ranulf returned his quiet gaze to Ahiru and smiled, keeping his eyes on hers as he took a sip of his water. Ahiru felt a timid smile form on her own face in response, as well as a mortifying blush that crept into her pale cheeks. She hoped that Ranulf wouldn't notice her blush in the dim, warm light of the restaurant. She was glad, however, that she was now becoming accustomed to looking at him directly without becoming entranced or having her thoughts wander back to Fakir while her eyes glazed over.

Ranulf set down his drinking glass and looked again at Ahiru's face.

"I'm not sure if I was just imagining it, but you seemed troubled to see me. Have we met before, perhaps?"

Ahiru blushed again, realizing that he had noticed her odd behavior upon his entrance. She giggled nervously and shook her head. "No we haven't met before. I just… you reminded me of someone else that I know."

Ranulf smiled and took another sip of his water. "Ah, I see. I don't have something on my face, then?" He asked teasingly.

Ahiru found it difficult to stop herself from blushing. "Ah, no. You don't."

Ranulf chuckled. "Alright then."

Ahiru, sensing that a lull was fast approaching in the conversation, searched for something, _anything_ upon which to comment. After two seconds of silence, she hastily blurted out, "So, you're just staying here briefly?" She winced after speaking, abhorring her own verbal clumsiness.

Ranulf nodded, looking out of the window at the rain. "Yes. I was passing through the woods and decided to rest here until the rain stops."

Ahiru also looked out at the rain, once again searching for something to say. Finally she inquired, this time more slowly, "Why were you out in the woods during the rain?"

Ranulf looked toward her, his eyes on her face as he shrugged. "Well I just moved to this town actually. My grandfather sent me here to… become accustomed to the town. It was his old hometown and he always wanted me to get to know it as he did."

Ahiru nodded, thinking fondly of Kinkan town's red shingled rooftops, its cobblestone paved streets, and the carved wooden shop signs that swung on ornamental metal extensions over the various shops. "I think you'll like it." She murmured with a smile.

Ranulf tilted his head, a smile on his face. "You must truly love it yourself if you can speak with such conviction."

Ahiru turned her gaze to him and nodded. "Kinkan town is my home."

Ranulf smiled and took another sip of his water. The conversation slackened again and Ahiru quickly asked, "So, what are you planning to do in town?"

However, Ebine interrupted once again when she appeared at the table with a delicate raspberry fruit tart and set it down in front of Ranulf with another smile.

"Are you sure that that's all that I can get you?" She asked again, an almost pleading note in her voice. Ranulf smiled at her and shook his head. "I won't be needing anything else."

With that clear dismissal, Ebine turned to Ahiru. "Ahiru? Do you want anything else?"

Ahiru tried to imitate Ranulf with his polite but firm head shake. "No, Ebine, but thank you for taking such good care of me. Are you sure you won't be needing my help with any of the other guests?"

Ebine laughed and waved her hand at Ahiru, gesturing for her to remain seated. "Oh no, but thank you for your help. Besides, I don't think any new customers will be arriving in this weather. You two have fun!" she finished with another mischievous smile and turned back toward the kitchen.

Ranulf returned his gaze to Ahiru as he swept his long blond bangs out of his eyes. "To answer your question, my father is sending me to attend Kinkan Academy. I'll be studying English while I am staying here."

Ahiru took a moment to catch up with the conversation, remembering that she had asked him about what he planned to do in town. Ahiru's stomach turned as she registered the meaning of his words, an odd sensation forming in her stomach. "Really? I'm studying-" Ahiru began, but stopped herself when she remembered with a jolt, _that was four years ago! _

"I studied ballet there a few years ago." She corrected herself with a nervous laugh.

Ranulf sat forward, his eyes shining. "Is that so? Are you no longer taking lessons there?"

Ahiru smiled with chagrin and shrugged. "I'm not sure. Some things in my life have changed recently, and I'm not really sure what I'm going to do."

Ranulf nodded. "Ah." He seemed to know not to ask further.

He took another sip of water and looked out of the window again, only to return his gaze to Ahiru's face, smiling. "It looks like the rain is letting up a little bit." Ahiru looked down at his empty plate, wondering when he had had the time to eat his tart. She didn't even remember him raising the fork to his mouth.

"I'll be on my way then." Ranulf stood, shrugging on his coat after placing the appropriate amount of money on the table. He gave a nod to Ebine who watched their table from the doorway of the kitchen, a knowing smile on her face.

Ahiru stood too, looking out at the rain. Now might be the only time for her to go home. It was now or never, and although she was sure that Ebine would be more than happy to have the company, she knew that she couldn't stay much longer. She ducked out of Ranulf's way as he stepped toward the door, saying, "Oh, I should probably be heading home too."

He turned to face her again, surprise on his face. "You don't work here?"

Ahiru shook her head. "It's a bit of a long story. I was only helping out Ebine for a little while. But I've delayed going home for long enough."

Ranulf smiled warmly. "Perhaps I can walk you home?" He asked, holding out a hand to Ahiru. Ahiru blushed immediately and giggled nervously. She almost took his extended hand, but hesitated.

"Uhm… Let me say goodbye to Ebine first!" She scrambled away from the table and toward Ebine who suddenly pretended not to have been watching them.

"Oh, Ahiru. Is there anything wrong?" She said with a smile.

Ahiru shook her head. "No, there's nothing wrong. Will you mind if I home now?"

Ebine looked over Ahiru's shoulder at Ranulf who was waiting patiently by the door. Her smile widened by a fraction and she nodded. "Of course, dear. You go ahead."

"Thank you for taking care of me," Ahiru said quickly and hugged Ebine. Ebine chuckled and whispered into Ahiru's ear, "Oh, it's no problem at all. But I've kept you waiting long enough, and your young gentleman is waiting for you. Go ahead."

Ahiru, for a split second, thought that Ebine was talking about Fakir. Ahiru was about to ask Ebine how she knew about Fakir when she turned and saw Ranulf waiting by the door, a warm smile on his face. A blush rose in her cheeks as she walked toward the door.

…

"May I ask you something?" Ranulf murmured after the first few silent minutes of their walk.

Ahiru turned to look at him, caught his green eyes again, then blushed and looked away again. "Sure." She said softly.

Ranulf glanced at her face as he walked. "Why were you putting off going home?"

Ahiru was careful not to let her face show too much of her surprise, as she could see Ranulf studying her face out of the corner of her eyes. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she quietly responded, "Well, I made a choice about something that I've wanted for years," Ahiru surprised herself by finally admitting out loud, to this new acquaintance, that she really had wished for her transformation for the past four years, even when she wouldn't admit it to herself. Being able to finally say it aloud seemed to lift a weight off of Ahiru's chest. She continued, while sweeping the path for hazardous rocks or tree roots, "But when I made the choice, I broke a promise to someone that I made a long time ago. I was afraid of going back to see him and admitting that I broke the promise."

A few moments of silence followed her response, presumably as Ranulf tried to understand the situation. After some time, Ranulf replied, "So, you made a promise a long time ago… How long ago?" He asked suddenly, crossing his arms as he walked.

Ahiru shrugged. "About four years ago."

Ranulf turned slightly, looking at her sideways, "You were sincere when you made the promise, right?"

Ahiru, shocked by his question, stopped dead in the path and stared at him with an almost offended expression. "Of course I was sincere when I made the promise!"

Ranulf stopped two steps further down the path, holding up his hands to calm her. "I didn't mean to offend you, so please don't take offense." His words sounded sincere, so Ahiru continued down the path ahead of him, a blush rising in her cheeks at her sudden audacity. Ranulf, catching up, walked alongside her, not seeming to notice her quickened pace.

"What I meant to say," He murmured, "Was that perhaps, since the time when you made the promise four years ago, your feelings regarding the promise have changed."

Ahiru slowed, allowing Ranulf to talk more leisurely. However, he only sighed and stuck his hands in his coats pockets, glancing up at her face briefly from time to time. After several more minutes, Ranulf spoke again.

"Perhaps, just as your feelings may have changed, the one to whom you made the promise may also have changed their feelings. This person might not be as angry with you for having broken your promise as you think." The blond young man kept his eyes on Ahiru's face as he murmured the last sentence. Ahiru slowed and eventually came to a stop, just as they reached the edge of the woods. Just a hundred feet away, the first of the town's buildings sat, the white-washed, red-shingled buildings, shop signs, and cobbled streets inviting them into town. Ahiru turned to Ranulf with a smile on her face.

"Thank you for walking with me." She laughed nervously, twisting her hands in the blue dress that Ebine had given her to keep. Raising her head and meeting his green eyes with her shining blue ones, Ahiru smiled even more brightly. "And thank you for reassuring me. I don't think I could have made it here if you hadn't talked to me."

Ranulf smiled and bowed, saying, "I do what I can."

Ahiru laughed again and turned to look up the street. "I think I need to go on from here alone. Perhaps I'll see you again in the future?" She turned her head to look at him.

Ranulf chuckled and bowed once more. "Of course."

Ahiru gave him another of her bright smiles and started up the street, eventually looking back down the street to find that he had vanished.

…

Ahiru navigated her way through the town and, after several minutes, found the familiar shop sign that she had been looking for. Standing before the door, she looked up at the sign, the gold placard with black lettering striking up a feeling of nostalgia in her. She raised her hand to knock at the door, but hesitated. In the distance, the Kinkan Tower Clock chimed the seventh hour of the evening. Overhead soft thunder pealed and rain began to fall once again. Ahiru stood motionless before the door, hand poised and ready to knock.

What would Fakir say when he answered the door? Would his face be one of happiness, or one of annoyance, or anger? What would he do when he saw her?

Last minute fears assailed Ahiru's mind, and her hand shook as it hovered in the air. Rain quickly dotted her dress and began to soak from her shoulders downwards. Ahiru knew that she needed to at least get out of the rain. Smiling bravely, she knocked gently on the door and held her breath. However, after a few minutes, Ahiru's bangs were plastered to her face and no one had come to the door. Heart beating wildly and hoping that no one would mind, she quietly pressed the door latch and let herself inside. The hallway full of swords, spears, and armor was dark. It stilled smelled the same and her quiet steps through the hall echoed just as she remembered. Nervously, and stepping as quietly as she could, she made her way to the end of the hall and stopped just before the threshold of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the wild spluttering of her heart, she stepped into the light of the kitchen.

The kitchen table was occupied by three figures, each facing one another as they engaged in a hushed, solemn discussion. It took a few moments for them to notice that someone else had just entered the room. The conversation suddenly died out as all three people turned their eyes toward Ahiru. The silence that ensued only made Ahiru's heart beat faster and faster as she waited apprehensively for the reaction to her presence.

Mytho and Rue stared with shock at Ahiru, almost as if scrutinizing her face and the way she twisted her hands anxiously in the folds of her dress. Charon's face was puzzled as he studied Ahiru's face. Distantly, Ahiru wondered if she had ever been formally introduced to him, and if he remembered her at all when she had become Princess Tutu for him in order to fetch Mytho's feelings of regret from him.

The silence became deafening. Ahiru looked back down the hall, a sob forming in her throat. "I just let myself in… I hope you don't mind." She mumbled, clenching her dress with tight knuckles.

After a few more moments, Rue stood, her eyes wide. Mytho also stood, a hesitant smile forming on his face. He took a step toward the timid girl. "_Ahiru_?" He asked quietly.

The sob caught in her throat again and she nodded, unable to speak. A moment later, the breath was crushed out of her chest as Rue sprang to life with a cry of happiness and wrapped Ahiru in a suffocating hug. "_Ahiru! Ahiru! Ahiru!_" She was unable to say anything else, and after a moment, Ahiru realized that Rue was _crying_. This time Ahiru could not stop the tears and she buried her face in Rue's glossy hair, happiness threatening to burst her own chest. She had been remembered.

Mytho stood a few feet away, smiling with kind eyes. Charon, however, suddenly burst into laughter. Rue and Ahiru separated, tears in both of their eyes, to look at him in confusion.

Charon approached Ahiru and, much to her surprise, pulled her into a rough hug. Ahiru was stunned. She was sure that Charon didn't even know who she was. Or who she had been…

As he released her, Charon gripped Ahiru's shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes, his own eyes twinkling with mirth. "_The whole time_. At first I thought things were normal, him caring for a little duck almost like a human companion back when he was younger. But when he got older, I thought that he was ridiculous, investing all that time and energy caring for you and talking to you when a boy his age should have been doing other things. And I thought I was imagining it when he talked to you and you seemed to understand. I see now; the whole time; that was _you_ that he was caring for! _You're his duck. His Ahiru_." Laughter rumbled deep in Charon's chest as he gripped Ahiru's shoulders. "-To think that you were living with us all along, for all those years!" Charon continued to laugh.

Ahiru did not know what to say, at the mention of Fakir her thoughts had become anxious and scrambled again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mytho smiling amusedly. After a few moments, Charon finally released Ahiru.

"We should wake Fakir and tell him the news," Charon chuckled.

"Tell me what?" a quiet voice sounded from the doorway by the stairs.

Silence suddenly echoed through the kitchen as its occupants turned toward Fakir who stood in the threshold of the door, a hand on the doorframe.

Ahiru's heart immediately erupted into erratic thudding, pounding its way up her throat. After a moment, Charon, who blocked her from Fakir's view, turned back toward her and then moved out of the way.

Ahiru smiled, her hands finding their way to the front of her dress and clenching the folds again.

Fakir continued to stare at her, his hand still clenching the doorframe. Ahiru's heart began to beat faster. The others had remembered her. Did he? She bit her lip, trying to alleviate the sudden anxiety she felt. The room remained silent as he stared at Ahiru, unmoving, his face a mask of stone.

Was he angry with her? Was he unhappy that she had returned? A million questions flew through her mind as she awaited his response.

Finally, forcing herself to speak, Ahiru murmured quietly, "I'm sorry, Fakir. I broke our promise."

His face did not change, but his hand fell from the doorframe to hang at his side. Then, unexpectedly, he turned, but not before saying quietly, "_Go away_."

Without another word, he left the kitchen. In the silence, each of them could hear Fakir as he went up the stairs, walked to his bedroom and shut the door roughly. No one made a noise as they all stared at the threshold where Fakir had stood moments before.

Slowly, Charon, Mytho, and Rue turned to look at Ahiru's face. She did not seem to notice their gazes upon her face; she only continued to stare at the doorway where Fakir had stood. Her expression was as blank as his had been.

Rue stepped forward first. "Ahiru-" she began, but at the sound of her name, Ahiru jumped and, in an instant, disappeared down the darkened hallway that led to the door outside.

"Ahiru!" Rue called, running after her. Mytho followed, hearing the outside door bang open and shut even as he entered the darkened hall of armor. At the end, he found the door open, Rue standing out in the rain and looking around. When he reached her, she turned to him desperately. "I didn't see where she went." Rue stomped her foot in the muddy street. "THAT _ASSHOLE_! He doesn't _deserve_ my apology! Ahiru was just standing there; she came back to him and he just ignored her!" Rue fumed in the rain for a few moments more before her anger drained and her concern for Ahiru reasserted itself.

"Mytho, where do you think she is?" Rue looked worriedly down the street, blinking as rain ran into her eyes. Mytho shrugged, water dripping from his white hair. "I'll find her." He murmured quietly. Rue nodded and watched as he disappeared down the street.

…

Ahiru ran as fast as she could as darkness descended over Kinkan Town. The streets were dark and very few lights were on in the houses that Ahiru passed. Ahiru had adapted well to the feel of her new body and had learned how to control her muscles, but as she grew more and more tired, she stumbled more and fell across the cobbles. Each time she fell, she caught herself with her hands, eventually opening the skin on both of her palms. She ignored the stinging pain, picking herself up and running onwards until she could barely breathe. She ran through the darkness, trying not to remember the blank look on Fakir's face, or the way he had simply ignored her voice and left the kitchen without another word. The only thing she could think now was that he wouldn't keep his part of the promise, now that she had broken hers. It was the only thing that could explain the blank look on his face, and the way he had turned and left the kitchen, presumably unable to stand her presence any longer.

Charon must have been mistaken.

Ahiru tripped for the seventh time and this time, lay in the middle of the street, sobbing and feeling the rain pelting her body. She should never have asked the voice to change her back. Things would be so much simpler if she hadn't been discontent as a duck. She should have just lived out her life as a duck and allowed Fakir to build a life on his own, unhampered by the responsibility of caring for her.

Ahiru's thoughts drifted as the rain chilled her body and washed the blood from her hands. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but suddenly a hand on her shoulder brought her back from her miserable state of half-consciousness.

"Ahiru." A steady, insistence voice murmured close to her ear. Ahiru only whimpered in response, wishing, even in the dark, that Mytho couldn't see her in this state of agony. Then the world tipped sickeningly as she felt Mytho's hands slide around her middle and under her legs, lifting her from the wet, cobble-paved street.

"Mytho", she whispered, burying her face in his shirt and crying once again. His shirt was soaking. He had been searching for her in the freezing rain and the darkness for who knows how long. She was cared for.

And yet, selfishly, she wished that the one who had been searching for her and the one who was carrying her in his arms was someone other than Mytho. She hated herself and wondered how and when she had become so selfish, never happy with what she had. She always wanted more. Princess Tutu would never have caused everyone this much trouble. _She_ had been selfless, caring, and she always appreciated what luck she could get. But Ahiru knew that the Princess Tutu in her had disappeared long ago.

Rain mingled with her tears and ran into her mouth, the taste of salt strangely soothing, along with the swaying of Mytho's stride as he carried her through the darkened streets of Kinkan town, back to _Schmied_. Ahiru's sobs eventually calmed and she fell into a more restful state of semi-consciousness, her cheek pressed against Mytho's wet shirt. Moments after she closed her eyes, Mytho was opening the door to _Schmied_ and carrying her into the kitchen. Time seemed to behave strangely when she was experiencing moments of extreme emotion, Ahiru noted distantly. Not willing to see Charon's or Rue's faces of shock, Ahiru closed her eyes and turned her face into Mytho's warm chest, pretending to be asleep. Rue's gasp, however, was unavoidable and Ahiru knew that Mytho could feel her body tense in his arms at the sound. He said nothing about it and merely spoke gently to Charon about the guest room in the house. Silently, and with all the grace that his career demanded, he carried Ahiru upstairs.

Ahiru drifted in and out of consciousness as Mytho left and Rue entered the bedroom to dry and change her into a clean set of nightclothes. The next time she resurfaced, Mytho had returned to wash, salve, and bandage her injured hands. He apologized softly when she winced at the stinging of her palms, but his kindness and apology only brought tears to her eyes again as she thought of the one person who she wished could be here as well, caring for her just like the others. After Mytho had finished wrapping the long white bandages around each of her hands, Ahiru sank down again into dreamless sleep.

And then sometime during the night, Ahiru found herself awake once again, for no apparent reason. Rain still pelted against the window of her room and Ahiru felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Restless, unable to sleep, Ahiru pushed herself out of bed, wincing as her palms stung when she did so. She fumblingly moved her hands about until she found a box of matches and a lamp on her bedside table. Striking the match, she held it to the wick and then picked up the glass cover, placing it onto the lamp base. The room glowed with orange light, causing dark shadows to flicker about the room. Wondering what time it was, Ahiru smiled slightly when Kinkan Tower's Clock conveniently chimed twelve times. Midnight.

Ahiru quietly opened the door out into the hallway and stepped quietly past Charon's room. Passing the darkened stairs, Ahiru continued down the hall until she found herself standing before the door to Fakir's room. She hadn't fully realized what she intended to do, or why she had wandered out into the hall until she stood before his door, hand raised to knock, just as before. The chances that Fakir was still awake were slim, and chances that he was awake and wouldn't be angry with her for knocking at his door at midnight were even slimmer. But Ahiru had to know. She would try to talk to him one last time, to gauge whether he wanted to see her anymore, or if he truly wished that she would leave. She needed to know, because if it was the latter, then she wouldn't be able to face him in the morning. She would leave the house and return to the pond in the forest to seek out the voice from her dreams. She would ask it to return her to her duck form so that she could live out the rest of her life as a duck and end the trouble that she had caused everyone. Or she might go to Ebine's restaurant and live there with her, if the voice refused her request. But if he didn't want her around anymore, Ahiru wouldn't trouble Fakir with her presence any longer.

Turning her hand so that the back faced the door, she used her knuckles to lightly rap on the solid wood. She couldn't close her hand into a fist because of the stinging pain when her bandages chafed her wounds, so the sound seemed too faint to be audible. Ahiru waited, her heart beating rapidly. Although she tried to tell herself that there was still a chance that Fakir would still want her around, her heart seemed to droop, expecting the worst.

Ahiru was wondering if she should knock on his door again when the door swung softly inward. A soft glow within his room highlighted the side of Fakir's face, his expression unreadable. Averting her eyes from his blank stare, Ahiru quietly asked, "May I come in?"

Fakir silently opened the door wider to let her in and shut the door with a soft click, turning to face Ahiru. She fidgeted as she stared at the floor for a long while before she looked up into Fakir's deep green eyes. Immediately her own eyes welled up with tears at the thought that this might be the last time that she ever looked into those dark green depths. She quickly looked at the floor, biting her lip as she put together in her head what she wanted to say. Fakir remained motionless and silent the entire time.

Finally, Ahiru looked up at Fakir, refusing to cry as she began:

"I know I made you a promise to be myself. But… I broke the promise and so if you don't want to stay with me anymore, then I won't consider your promise broken. But please, if you want me to go…" Ahiru now found herself unable to stop the flow of tears down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath and clearing the lump from her throat, she continued, "If you don't want me here anymore, I'll go-" Ahiru stopped mid sentence as a strangled sob choked its way out of her throat. She covered her mouth to prevent any more noise from escaping. She couldn't look at Fakir anymore; his silence seemed to be his only answer.

And then, suddenly, the hand was wrenched from her mouth and Ahiru felt Fakir pull her to him. Her slender, frail body collided with his as Fakir wrapped his arms around Ahiru in a breath-stealing embrace. He bent forward, holding Ahiru tightly against the curve of his body, so that his lips could reach her ear. Her heart beat furiously as a shuddering sigh ghosted over the shell of her ear, warm as it escaped his lips.

"Moron." His sounded roughly in her ear. It took her moment to realize that his voice was thick with emotion.

"I don't care about that;" he continued, "I'd stay with you even if we hadn't made that promise. I'm just glad that you're alright."

Ahiru, upon hearing his words, exhaled in one long, shuddering breath, burying her face in Fakir's chest. He smelled clean and crisp, but aside from the usual slight smell of ink, there seemed to be the tangy smell of salt on his skin as well. The tears were definitely not her own, although her own tears came readily enough as Fakir's arms tightened protectively around her.

_Had he been crying recently? _

…

When she let out that shuddering breath, Fakir couldn't help but hold her closer, marveling at how fragile her body seemed. She had gotten a little taller since she'd last been human. A corner of his mouth slipped into a chagrined smile as he realized that she was still short enough that he could tuck her head under his chin like a small child. Fakir rested his lips against her slightly damp hair; she smelled of damp earth and tears. Fakir closed his eyes, wishing that he could dispel all of her unhappiness as easily as he had created it. The saline scent of her sadness shot him through with guilt.

He thought back wretchedly to the first moment that he had seen her, standing in the center of the kitchen, timidly twisting her hands in the already wrinkled folds of her dress.

_He had first heard the shouting and the laughter downstairs, the merry noises cutting through the hazy fog of his dreamless sleep. Still feeling empty, Fakir stiffly pushed himself upright and slid out of his bed, making his way to the door. The laughter and happy chatter increased in volume as he quietly descended the stairs._

_He arrived at the threshold of the kitchen just as Charon was saying happily, "We should wake Fakir and tell him the good news."_

"_Tell me what?" he heard himself say distantly._

_There were the moments of silence as Mytho, Rue, and Charon stared at him. Then Charon shifted to the left, revealing a girl who wore a nervous, hopeful expression, twisting her hands in the front of her dress. His mind suddenly became a white fog of confusion. He stared at her, his brain slowing to a stop. _

_This was… this was… this was a girl with hair… long hair, the color of autumn leaves… and her eyes were bright, shining blue… _

_Suddenly his mind was assaulted with images of that girl's face, the one that he had forgotten from years ago. He could see her face now, as clearly as he could see that of the girl who now stood before him, nervously waiting for something to happen. That girl from before… he could see traces of her in the apprehensive expression of the girl standing no less than five feet away from him. He couldn't understand how he could have forgotten her face. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He could only stand there, staring at her and drinking in her sweet, innocent face with his eyes and his memories._

_The girl before him now spoke, her words echoing into empty space, but not reaching his mind through the white fog. Yes, her voice sounded different, but he could hear the same notes of shy nervousness, happiness, and hope in her words that he had heard so long ago. The sound of her voice released his immobile muscles. He removed his hand from the door and he watched Ahiru's face –this new Ahiru as it changed into one of hope. _

_He thought that he had… killed her. And yet, here she stood, very much alive and waiting for him to welcome her back. He wanted to step over the threshold and take her in his arms, hold her close so that she could never disappear again and he would never forget her face. But suddenly, darkness seeped into his mind. He had already forgotten her once. He had forgotten her and tried to fix the problem by bringing back the old image with his cursed powers. And yet, the image had changed into an image that he no longer knew. The girl from years ago was dead, and he didn't want to know this new Ahiru, for fear that she might disappear again and he would forget her. He shouldn't be allowed near her; he didn't deserve to be near her._

"_Go away." He heard himself say. _

_He stepped backward quickly and turned away, refusing to see the look of hurt upon her face. It would be better for him to push her away now; better for her to move on to someone who wouldn't hurt her again. He fled the kitchen, sprinting up the stairs and throwing himself into his room. Another moment and he might not have been able to resist taking her into his arms._

_He smiled distantly, telling himself that, despite his promise, it would be for the better if he never saw Ahiru again. Just knowing that she was alive and well was enough for him. He didn't need to confine her in a cage any longer just because of his own selfish desire to feel useful by caring for her. It would be better for Ahiru. His smile faded a moment later when a warm, wet droplet hit the back of his hand. Holding his hand closer to his face, he inspected the small, damp blotch. A tear? Touching his hands to his face, he discovered streams of wetness running down his cheeks. He traced the trails with his shaking fingertips._

_Almost angrily, he flung himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillows. He refused to acknowledge his own tears._

_And then, later in the night he had awoken, not knowing why. Ahiru's lamp cast a warm glow over his room, but he felt strangely distant from all of his senses, his mind still hazy with a white fog. The nebulous mist seemed to leave him feeling strangely hollow. Fakir splashed water over his face with water from the basin in the corner of his room. However, even the chill of the water didn't seem enough to clear the fog in his head. _

_Just as he was drying his face with a towel, hardly feeling the softness of the material, he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Barely wondering who could be knocking at his door, he dropped the towel carelessly to the floor and made his way toward the door to answer. _

_And then, there she was again. Although she had changed so much, something in him still yearned to hold her. The white fog in his mind thickened._

"_May I come in?" She asked softly, the edges of her voice seeming blurred._

_Fakir could only move aside, not saying anything. His arms itched to reach out to her, to touch her and make sure that she was real. Fakir quickly tried to push away his longing, but the inner battle rendered him incapable of speech or motion. He could only fight himself as Ahiru began to speak._

"_I know I made a promise…" She began. Fakir could hear her words, but at the sound of her voice, his need to hold her strengthened. Her words faded away as he fought against his desires again. _

"_I won't consider your promise broken…" He heard her voice clearly again, but something was wrong with her voice, and her face. The fog suddenly began to shift aside, sharpening his vision. She wasn't looking directly at him any longer, and there were tears running down her face. Tears? She was _crying_?_

"_If you don't want me here anymore, I'll go-" She began. At the sight of her tears, Fakir had been fighting the impulse to hold her, so he almost missed her words. However, at the sound of her sob, full of sadness and pain, the fog dissipated instantly. Suddenly he could see her clearly, smell her tears, read the expression of agony upon her delicate, innocent face._

_She wanted to stay with him. She didn't want to leave. _

_Instantly, he gave in to his yearning. It was too late for him to push her away. He couldn't tell her to leave now. _

_Seeing, hearing, feeling, thinking more clearly, Fakir grasped at the hand that she had pressed to her mouth, pulling her towards him. Her tiny, lithe body collided against his as he wrapped her into his embrace. The feeling of her in his arms -alive, real, tangible, _human_- instantly sent a feeling of happiness through him that he had not experienced in a very long time. He released a shuddering breath at the thought that he had tried to send her away, and caused her so much pain. _

_With the sound of her sobbing in his mind, he roughly murmured the only words he could think of into her ear, hoping that she could forgive him._

…

Distantly the clock tower struck one o'clock in the morning. Fakir lifted his lips from Ahiru's hair, blinking in slight confusion. It seemed only moments ago that he had closed his eyes, holding Ahiru in his arms. Trying to quietly clear his throat without surprising or disturbing her, he bent his head to the side to look at her face. A small smile formed on his faced when he realized that she had fallen asleep, her head nestled against his chest. Taking advantage of the moment, he studied her face thoroughly, memorizing the curve of her nose, the way her eyelashes fluttered from time to time, the slight upward curves at the corners of her delicate lips… He blinked suddenly, breaking his eyes away from her face. A small tinge of color forming in his cheeks, he looked about the room, wondering what he should do. Fakir knew that, as much as he would like to hold Ahiru forever, his body couldn't hold out much longer. He needed sleep; otherwise he might pass out and drop Ahiru. Or worse, he might pass out, drop her, and _land_ on top of her. This might be difficult to explain, especially given his decreased brain functionality due to aforementioned lack of sleep.

Stealing another glance at her face, Fakir knew that he couldn't bring himself to disturb her from her peaceful slumber. As he glanced about the room, his eyes rested briefly on his bed; however, at the thought of tucking Ahiru into his bed, the blush in his cheeks only grew. He couldn't do _that_; it wasn't like _that _between them. Not that tucking her into his bed would mean anything. But still. It might lead to questions. For which he had no answers. Besides, there was a guest room, so he didn't know why he'd even thought of putting her into his bed. He must be tired, to not have thought of the guest room first. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to put her in his bed...

Or so Fakir told himself as he glanced toward the door that led into the hallway outside.

Taking a deep breath and hoping that Charon wouldn't wake up, Fakir gently looped one arm around Ahiru's waist and the other around her legs, scooping her into his arms. She felt as light as a feather, Fakir noted, smiling slightly at the irony of the phrase. Once he had her settled safely in his grip, he took another glance at her face; she hadn't woken. He sighed, another slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Only Ahiru could fall asleep standing up, and stay asleep as someone swept her into their arms and carried her off somewhere. He hoped fervently that Ahiru never presented this opportunity to someone else less honorable than he. His mouth set in a thin line as he carefully opened the door of his bedroom and made his way out into the hall. Ahiru trusted strangers far too easily and always unwittingly made it all too easy to harm her. Someday, he knew, although he did his best to push away the thought, someone would take advantage of her carelessness.

His grim thoughts were interrupted when Ahiru let out a warm sigh against his throat and her hand crept up his chest to rest on his shoulder. Her fingers brushed lightly over the bare skin of his neck and shoulder where his nightshirt opened up. Fakir came to a complete stop just a few paces from the door of the guest room, his heart suddenly beating very rapidly within his chest. He became super-aware of the feel of Ahiru's body in his arms; the warmth of her head against his chest; the slight, increased pressure of her fingertips on his shoulder as her hands tensed at his abrupt halt in motion. The sudden tingling feelings running through his entire body frightened him with their intensity and suddenness. His eyelids fluttered as he felt the sudden desire to lose himself in the feeling and forget his surroundings. However, his mind finally kicked in and spurred him into motion. He swiftly closed the distance between him and the door of the guest room, pressed the latch, entered the room, and made his way over to Ahiru's bed. The unnerving tingling feelings faded and were forgotten as Fakir concentrated on gently depositing Ahiru on her bed without waking her. However, Ahiru only sighed and rolled over as Fakir laid her on the bed and pulled the blanket up over her body. Taking a last glance at her peaceful, sleeping face, Fakir turned to leave the bedroom. However, before he could move, he felt a tug at his sleeve.

Blushing furiously, Fakir turned back to Ahiru, wondering how he would explain himself. However, a second glance at her face told him that she hadn't woken. Her fingers slowly relaxed their grip on the hem of his sleeve and her hand dropped to the edge of her bed. With a smile, Fakir bent forward and brushed the coppery bangs out of her fair face, tucking them behind her ear. She let out another small sigh, a smile curving upward at the corners of her mouth.

Fakir gently withdrew his hand and removed the glass lamp cover, blowing out the tiny flame and casting the room into quiet darkness. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft sounds of Ahiru's breathing, the click of a latch, and the light thud of the door as it slowly drew closed.

…

A/N: AAAAHHH IT'S FINISHED! I FINISHED THE CHAPTER! YUSS! =D (Sorry again; I'm posting a few days later than I wanted to, so I apologize for the wait. I hope it was worth it.)

Also, the fic isn't over yet, sorry to inform you. ;) There's still so much that needs to happen, although I could very easily end it here. But there need to be consequences for Fakir's actions, Ahiru's decision, etc… And our new character must make a few more appearances to prove that he isn't a Gary Stu! (Despite the fact that there is very little evidence to prove that he isn't, and there won't be for some time… AGHHH, this is why fanfics are so much fun; your characters come pre-made/developed and you can mess around with them however you'd like.)

*Sigh* Well there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the fluff (and I hope I didn't overdo it!)

See you soon! (Hopefully)

Read and Review, PLEASE! (And thank you so much, to all of you who have already reviewed! You guys keep me going!)

-MYH- 3


	7. A New Beginning

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Seven: A New Beginning**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

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Ahiru turned over and curled into a tighter ball, smiling as she clutched the blankets to her lips. Sun streamed in through the nearby window, lounging across her tiny form. A pleasant dream faded away, the details already distant in her mind. She could only remember the feeling of safety and a warmth that reached inexplicably deep inside her. She buried her face in the blankets as the sun strengthened, attempting in vain to recapture the last few moments of her dream.

As the last blurs slipped through her fingers, Ahiru opened her eyes, blinking as the fogginess of her surroundings formed into recognizable shapes. Then, with a start, Ahiru realized that she hadn't been dreaming.

The previous night shimmered in her memories as if through a haze, the sounds and words seeming to blend together into a forgotten lullaby. Ahiru's eyes became vacant for another moment as small fragments of conversation drifted through her mind.

"_Moron… I don't care about that…" _

His arms had been around her, warm, reassuring, real. She closed her eyes against the sunlight and focused on the memory, making sure that she could never forget. _Moron_, he had called her. She opened her eyes with a smile. In the past she had never imagined that the infuriating word could ever bring her so much happiness.

Ahiru unthinkingly moved her hand to rub her eyes and abruptly reminded herself of the bulky bandages on her hands. A twinge of juxtaposed sadness and joy shot through her as she gazed at her upturned palms, remembering that the previous night's memories had not all been wonderful.

She looked away quickly, suddenly searching for something, anything upon which to focus. Her gaze alighted upon a small pile of clothing stacked on the varnished oak dresser at the far end of the room. Stepping as softly as she could across the sun-warmed floor, Ahiru made her way to the dresser and lifted the pile of clothes with graceless fingers. With some difficulty Ahiru held up the dress by the shoulders, trying to discern which way she should put it on. After a few moments Ahiru gave up and lifted the hem of the dress over her head, squirming into the garment as she might have, had it been a nightgown. Despite her human form, Ahiru still knew that she'd never fully master Rue's elegant grace. –And somehow that was perfectly fine by her.

Outside the window, the town of Kinkan sparkled in the morning light, mist rising off the red-shingled rooftops and cobbled streets as the sun rose into the sky. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Fakir sat at the edge of his bed, groggily rubbing his eyes in the dazzling morning sunlight. He felt a sense of surprise as he stretched and found that his lungs gathered air easily without their usual clenching resistance. Perplexed, he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember... And then suddenly his memories returned in an overwhelming flood; Ahiru's soft knock at his door, her tears, the feel of her in his arms again, solid and real. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a quiet smile as he yawned and stretched.

However, embarrassment consquently washed through his mind, wiping away his smile as it reminded him of the way he had roughly grabbed Ahiru and held her, whispered into her ear. How could he possibly explain that to her? He could hardly explain it to himself.

_Moron… _

He rubbed his eyes again, as if to scrub the troublesome thoughts from his mind. Fortunately, for the moment it seemed to comply and Fakir could gaze about his sunlit room, undistracted.

The world outside his window bustled with life, the sun already beginning to burn away the morning fog. Moving toward his windows, Fakir flicked the latch and pushed the panes outward to greet the day. The slightly chilly morning air ghosted over his thinly clothed shoulders, but he only continued to stand at the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his cheeks for the first time in four years.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Ahiru tiptoed as quietly as she could down the stairs. As she made her descent onto the lower floor, she could hear her heart thumping heavily in her chest, making her lightheaded and slightly dizzy. Her bandages chafed her hands as she used the wall for support, but she hardly noticed the slight stinging.

Morning sunlight poured in through the window in the downstairs hall, reflecting off the old wooden floors and splashing across the walls in scintillating patterns of white light. Ahiru squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright light and held her breath, listening. After a moment, she exhaled and stepped lightly onto the ground floor. The kitchen was empty, save for the tiny golden motes of dust that danced freely in the beam of sunlight afforded by the kitchen window. On the stovetop, a familiar scratched and dented tea-kettle burbled contentedly, the water inside just beginning to cool; someone must have left just minutes before Ahiru came downstairs.

The old wooden floor creaked slightly as Ahiru moved slowly across the kitchen, taking in the sun-splashed walls, the chipped paint on the wooden cabinets, the worn-smooth surface of the kitchen table. The legs of a chair scraped across the floor in slight protest as Ahiru carelessly seated herself, feeling a slight heaviness in her chest. The sunlight shining in through the kitchen window seemed to help alleviate the feeling somewhat.

Suddenly the kitchen door latch clicked upward and its rough hinges creaked gently. Twisting in her seat, Ahiru met Fakir's dark eyes as he emerged into the gilded light of the kitchen.

Motionless, they stared at one another, their faces both unreadable. Ahiru's chest tightened as she wondered if she had really only dreamt of the previous night's events. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice the way Fakir's dusky skin shone in the brilliant light of the sunlit kitchen. Fakir's shoulders tensed for a moment and Ahiru wondered if he was about to yell at her when he closed his eyes in exasperation and uttered softly, "Well, _say something_, moron."

His eyes flew open in surprise when Ahiru's clear laughter rang out through the kitchen. Involuntarily, Fakir felt the corners of his mouth twitch. After attempting in vain to maintain his stoic expression, he mentally threw up his hands in defeat and allowed the smile to creep onto his face. This felt simultaneously awkward and natural for Fakir. Although smiling felt strange because he had not had much practice in the past few years, or ever, it seemed that Ahiru had the ability to soften his heart no matter how jagged and frozen it had become. The eager feeling of warmth spreading through his chest reminded him of the sun on his skin from that morning.

Ahiru stood, sunlight twinkling in her sky-blue eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she suppressed further laughter. "Good morning, Fakir."

Fakir nodded to her, not trusting himself to speak, and averted his gaze before her wide blue eyes or sunlit auburn hair could distract him further. As his eyes drifted from her face, the clean white of her bandaged hands caught his eye, sending a wave of guilt through his chest. Silently collecting himself, Fakir rallied and turned back to face her. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Her chair scraped again as she reseated herself. "Yes, please. -Can I help you make it?" she added the last sentence hesitantly, as if she wasn't sure whether Fakir would hear her.

Ahiru's question caught Fakir off guard for a moment. Normally Ahiru would noisily flap her way downstairs and wait for him to finish cooking their breakfast, watching him intently from the kitchen table with her large blue eyes. He had never thought he'd ever see the day when she stood beside him, whisking cream or stirring a pot of spiced dumplings. In his mind, he saw her look up at him with a smile on her lips.

Slowly, trying to ignore the imaginary scene still before his eyes, he responded, "Of course. Would you like to fetch the flour and cinnamon from the cabinet?"

Ahiru quickly complied and soon they both became focused on stirring walnuts, brown sugar, and other ingredients into the batter. Fakir realized rather quickly that his vision of Ahiru smiling and quietly stirring that imaginary pot of dumplings was only a vision; Ahiru had already succeeded in spilling cinnamon over his clean white shirt, dropped a bowl of fresh beaten eggs on the hard wood floor, and couldn't stop apologizing frantically every time she bumped into him. In her mortification, Ahiru's eyes had actually started to fill with tears. Fakir grumbled and tried to catch anything that she was holding before it hit the floor, but despite Ahiru's hindering Fakir found his heart growing lighter and lighter, a smile always hidden at the corner of his mouth. He did his best not to show it, but he was enjoying himself.

At the first sign of her tears, Fakir turned to comfort and reassure her, but was surprised when she ignored him and continued determinedly to stir the sadly deflated batter. With a jolt, he realized that she had already begun to mature. It must have happened when she was still a duck, sometime when he wasn't looking. A chagrined smile briefly tugged at his lips again, but vanished as a loud clang met his ears. Ahiru smiled sheepishly up at Fakir as she straightened up with the bowl in her arms. "It's okay; none of the batter spilled this time."

Fakir couldn't repress his chuckle at that comment –she was trying to reassure _him_- and allowed Ahiru another brief smile. She looked momentarily embarrassed but at the same time pleased that she had brought a smile to his face. She resumed stirring for a few more seconds before she looked up at Fakir again, looking abashed.

"Umm. Perhaps you want to stir it now?" Her voice contained a pleading note and she eyed the batter as if it was about to attack her.

Fakir smile returned and he murmured softly, "I think it's been stirred well enough." Carefully he pried the bowl from her bandaged hands and began to spoon the batter onto a baking sheet.

Ahiru watched Fakir's face as he did this, cursing her clumsiness. _I was doing so well at Ebine's. Why am I suddenly so clumsy? _She wondered if Fakir had begun to think about revoking his promise in the past half hour. Biting her lip and looking away, she bet to herself that the chances were fairly high.

"-Ahiru?"

Fakir's voice broke through her increasingly miserable thoughts and brought her gaze back to meet his. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Ahiru stared at him blankly and then timidly shook her head. "What did you say?"

Fakir sighed and rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "It doesn't matter." He stooped to put the tray into the oven beside the woodstove. When he straightened, he glanced quickly at Ahiru's face and then hesitantly murmured, "–What were you just thinking of?"

His green eyes probed her expression as she struggled to find an appropriate response. Ahiru closed her eyes, breaking away from his gaze so that she could think more clearly. With a heavy sigh, she reopened her eyes, looking at the floor.

"Well… I was wondering… Were you… Can we go for a walk later today?" -She felt the sudden urge to get out of the house.

Fakir's eyes searched her face curiously, but Ahiru couldn't bring herself to return his gaze. After a minute, Fakir sighed.

He wanted to pull her toward him again and tuck her into his arms, or ruffle her hair, or make her laugh, or _something_. He didn't like the distant way she stared at the kitchen wall behind him when he tried to catch her eyes or the almost melancholy look that crept onto her face each time he wasn't looking. It seemed as if she was hiding something, which disturbed him. He cast a worried glance at her face, still set in that same expression; what could she possibly want to hide from him?

"I suppose we could." He responded quietly, feeling slightly irritated.

Ahiru's face briefly broke into one of her light smiles and she looked up at Fakir. "Thank you."

Fakir momentarily couldn't speak; the look on her face seemed far too… Sad? Innocent? Hopeless? His heart was briefly gripped by an overwhelming surge of protectiveness. At his sides, his hands twitched instinctively but he merely clenched them into fists and willed them to stay in place.

"Heh, you moron." Fakir heard his voice echo through the kitchen far louder than he had intended. Wincing, he continued, "Don't worry about being perfect. I made a promise to you and I'm going to keep it." Fakir didn't even know why he had even spoken, or why he had mentioned his promise again, but somehow it seemed like the right thing to say.

"Thank you", Ahiru murmured again, her gratitude causing her voice to tremble. This time, Fakir couldn't restrain himself and he placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her toward him.

However, before he could wrap his arms around her, Ahiru stumbled and fell toward him, sending both of them crashing to the floor. As he fell, he felt Ahiru's forehead collide with his sternum and he curled instinctively around her as if to shield her. Fakir barely caught himself with his left hand, the other still gripping Ahiru's shoulder. Her hands pressed against the cinnamon-dusted front of his shirt.

"I'm sorry!" Ahiru exclaimed frantically, pushing herself from Fakir's bodily embrace. Rubbing his neck, Fakir pushed himself into a sitting position, only to see Ahiru squatting two feet away, her red face buried in her hands.

"_I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!!!"_ She whimpered over and over again. Fakir tugged at one of her hands, an amused smile on his face.

"Ahiru. Stop this." He tugged again, but Ahiru only shook her head into her hands. Fakir smiled wider. "Ahiru, it's fine. I'm alright; I'm not angry."

Ahiru suddenly dropped her hands from her face, looking suddenly and inexplicably angry. Her lip formed a pout as she glared at him.

Suddenly Fakir couldn't stop himself; he began to laugh, gazing at Ahiru with sparkling eyes. Ahiru's pout deepened. "You shouldn't have surprised me like that!" she asserted shrilly, smacking away the hand that he had around her wrist. When he only continued to laugh, she pounded his chest. "It's not funny! You could've gotten _hurt_!" She pounded his chest twice more, but the second time held no anger. A smile began to form on Ahiru's face as Fakir's laughter reached deep inside her. Soon she too began to laugh, not understanding why and hardly caring. The kitchen resounded with their laughter.

Suddenly a wooden bang and footsteps sounded in the hallway entrance.

"Well, I can't help but think that's what happened, Mytho. It's just that-" Charon's voice died out as he and Mytho entered the kitchen, only to behold Fakir sprawled across the floor and Ahiru playfully hitting his chest, the latter two laughing merrily.

"What-?" Charon began, but Fakir and Ahiru had already gotten to their feet, brushing dust from their clothing.

Fakir cleared his throat conspicuously. His eyes still twinkled as he looked away, avoiding Charon's look of utter confusion and Mytho's mysterious look of calm, perhaps even _amused_ understanding. Ahiru glanced at Fakir confusedly and then turned her attention to Charon and Mytho.

"Good morning!" she chirped brightly, bowing her greeting. Charon continued to search for his voice while Mytho responded, "Good morning, Ahiru, Fakir." The silk-haired boy nodded politely to each of them.

Charon finally formed words, stuttering slightly as he pretended to not have noticed the change in Fakir's behavior towards Ahiru. "Fakir… you… Ah, do I smell something burning?"

Ahiru started, turning white. "Ah, Fakir! We forgot about the oven-!" However, Fakir had already wound a thick dish towel around his hand and opened the oven, withdrawing a tray of smoking, blackened lumps.

"What_ –coughcough- _are those_?!" _Charon asked with difficulty, trying to cover his mouth with his sleeve.

Fakir wiped the tears from his eyes as he placed the smoldering platter on top of the woodstove. "They _were_ breakfast rolls."

Charon laughed and coughed simultaneously, his eyes alight with happiness that Fakir's sense of humor had returned.

"Aah, Fakir, how do I open this?" Ahiru struggled with the kitchen's window latch, using what seemed to be all of her strength to push the window open.

"Here, idiot", Fakir strode across the room and flipped the lock on the window, pushing the panes outward.

It nearly escaped Charon's attention, the way Fakir's arm brushed Ahiru's as he reached up to open the window and the way they each recoiled slightly as if electrified by the contact. Mytho didn't even watch them, a bemused, knowing smile just barely curving up at the corner of his lips. He intently studied the tray of burnt breakfast rolls.

"Perhaps we should go take that walk now?" Fakir suggested, his left hand drifting to the small of Ahiru's back and guiding her toward the entrance hall. Fakir could feel Charon's eyes on his face as he did this, but the light feeling in his chest made it difficult to care. He hadn't laughed so hard in a very long time. It was as if his chest had been gathering darkness and slowly being poisoned, but the laughter had released it to the air, made the poison disappear.

"Ah, but breakfast, Fakir-!"

Ahiru's eyes opened wide as Fakir stuck a fragrant slice of cinnamon toast in her mouth, pulling another slice for himself from a box on the counter. His other hand he kept on the small of her back, pushing her toward the door.

Mytho and Charon stood aside as Fakir steered Ahiru between them and out into the hallway. "We'll be back in a little bit", he called over his shoulder, already grinning widely.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun radiated warmth from high in the sky as Fakir and Ahiru strolled through the streets of Kinkan. Or tried to stroll.

Although a seemingly easy task, Ahiru found it difficult to keep her two feet under her and moving cooperatively in a single direction. It seemed as if every time she took a step, one foot would trip the other and she would fall across the cobbles. –At least she would have fallen several times by now, had Fakir not been watching her and preparing himself to catch her.

When Ahiru tripped for the eighth time, however, Fakir heaved a great sigh as he set Ahiru back on her feet. Holding her shoulders to steady her, he looked into her face, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards. "You really haven't changed at all, have you?"

Ahiru failed to notice Fakir's smile and her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "I have too!" She pouted, glaring up at him. "I was doing perfectly fine yesterday-" Ahiru's angry look faded and her voice died away as she remembered having tripped in the middle of Ebine's restaurant. She had tripped with her tray full of food and then she had been caught by… by someone who had the same green eyes as Fakir. Ranulf.

A sudden blush rose to her cheeks and Ahiru looked away, avoiding Fakir's green eyes. As she looked away, she spied a fountain situated at the center of a circular clearing in the houses and shops.

"Ah, Fakir! Let's go sit at that fountain!" She broke free of his grasp and began to walk toward the fountain, concentrating on not tripping as she went.

Fakir's smile melted into an irritated frown. Again, she had suddenly broken off in the conversation without an explanation. This new mannerism of hers didn't endear her to him as her clumsiness of foot and mouth did; this only made him uneasy, as if Ahiru knew something important that she refused to tell him. After a moment, however, the smile returned to his face. _I'm being too paranoid. She probably just didn't want to admit that she was wrong_, he thought with a grin. A moment later his grin disappeared for the second time as a muffled squawk met his ears; Ahiru lay sprawled across the cobbles, her legs having gotten tangled up in one another yet again. Rolling his eyes in mock weariness, Fakir strode toward Ahiru. He shook his head as he bent down to help her up.

"I thought I told you not to walk and think at the same time." He sighed loudly enough for her to hear, sliding his arms around her tiny waist. He could hear Ahiru breathe in as she prepared to launch another argument, but before she could begin a voice from a few feet away called, "Ahiru?"

Both of them looked toward the source of the voice, Fakir with his hands still on Ahiru's waist.

"Ebine?" Ahiru had time to respond before Fakir lifted her to her feet and caused the air to whoosh from her lungs.

Ebine, dressed in a modest grass-green dress, appeared to have been shopping. A bagful of groceries in her arms, the robust middle-aged woman looked from Ahiru to Fakir and then back to Ahiru. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What happened to the young gentleman from yesterday?" She inquired, shifting the bag in her grip.

Although it took a moment for him to comprehend the statement, Fakir's eyes snapped to Ahiru's face just in time to see the blush forming on her fair cheeks.

"Ah, erm… He went home." Ahiru responded vaguely. She could feel the heat of her blush growing as she became aware of Fakir's gaze on her face.

Ebine looked once more at Fakir. "I see…" She replied airily, studying the look on Fakir's face as he watched Ahiru. Realizing that she was watching him, Fakir turned his gaze to Ebine, but couldn't seem to form a smile in greeting. Instead, he only nodded wordlessly.

Ahiru, noticing the direction of Ebine's gaze, jumped and giggled hesitantly. "Oh! Ebine, this is Fakir. Fakir, Ebine. She found me… the day before yesterday… um…" Ahiru trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Ebine's lips pursed slightly with disapproval; it was clear that she disliked the young man's serious demeanor. "It's nice to meet you, Fakir." Her tone sounded flat. Turning to address Ahiru, Ebine leaned forward and murmured in a more enthusiastic tone, "Just make sure you keep in touch with that other young man." She winked before she straightened and exclaimed, "Oh, look at how low the sun is sinking! I suppose I need to be on my way –the restaurant will be all in an uproar if I don't hurry." She bustled off after nodding to each of them.

Ahiru stared straight ahead, trying to ignore Fakir's stare. "Let's go sit at the fountain, Fakir" Ahiru repeated hesitantly. When he didn't respond, she snagged the edge of his sleeve and pulled him forward.

Fakir hesitated a moment before he allowed Ahiru to tow him toward the fountain. His mind was buzzing with clamorous, muddled thoughts. _"What happened to the young gentleman from yesterday_?" Ebine had said. What exactly had transpired in the two days that Ahiru had gone missing?

Ahiru seated herself firmly on the rim of the fountain, tugging again on Fakir's sleeve when he didn't do the same. He regarded her from the corner of his eyes, trying to glimpse her expression or see what she might say next.

"What 'young'-"

"Fakir, I-"

Fakir and Ahiru both began to speak at the same time, but abruptly stopped. Although Fakir was fairly certain that his blush wouldn't show under his dark complexion, he turned his burning face away. Ahiru glanced at Fakir out of the corner of her eyes, her heart sinking. Since when had they become so awkward around each other?

Ahiru racked her brain for something to say or do; anything to break through this uncomfortable silence that stretched between them like an empty chasm. She took a breath and opened her mouth, hoping that something would come out, but no words came into her mind. She exhaled, closing her eyes in dismay and gripping folds of her dress in her bandage-wrapped hands.

To her surprise, Fakir spoke first, his voice even and controlled. "What do you want to do?"

When the silence made ready to spread itself between them again, but Fakir quickly added, "-Now that you're… human again, I mean. What do you want to do?"

Ahiru looked up at him, her wide cerulean eyes meeting his with uncertainty. "I don't know", she responded after another long silence. Breaking his gaze, she looked down at the small hands twisting in the folds of her dress. "I'm not really sure that there's a point to me being here."

Fakir flinched at that. That was right. She still didn't know about the story he had written, what he had done. She didn't know why she was there, or that he had turned her back into a human even though his attempt should have killed her. -Another flinch.

He had almost killed her.

He almost opened his mouth and began to tell her about his continuation of her story, but found that his mouth had gone dry; he couldn't bring himself to tell her. Although he knew that omitting the truth would be as good as lying to her outright, a part of him didn't want her to know him for the monster he was. He needed her and he didn't think he could bear it if she disappeared from his life again, which he felt certain she would if she ever discovered the truth.

Collecting himself, he cleared his throat and said in his most typical, irritated Fakir tone, "_Moron_, the fact that you're here at all obviously means that you're _meant_ to be here." He studied Ahiru's face, smiling slightly when her downhearted expression faded to a more peaceful countenance. These small things, making Ahiru laugh or smile, went a long way toward dissipating his guilt and making him truly believe that he was the best person to care for Ahiru.

After a moment, Ahiru spoke again, her voice thoughtful his time. "I don't know… I suppose… I suppose I'd want to start studying ballet again."

Fakir nodded, his eyes still intent upon her face. "It would be fairly easy to get you started again. Rue could help you get settled in without any questions."

Ahiru smiled a little, but her smile dropped from her face suddenly, giving way to another cheerless expression. Her hands began to twist in her lap again.

Fakir sighed almost exasperatedly. Every time he thought he'd cheered her up, out of nowhere that sad expression would hold her delicate facial features in its embrace. He wanted to grasp Ahiru's shoulders and shake her until the sadness dropped away. Even her endearing, fiery temper would be better than this. He felt like a failure.

"What's wrong, Ahiru?" He asked quietly, doing his best to keep his frustration in check.

Ahiru hands gripped the front of her dress tightly for a moment, and then released their grip. "Will I… Will I have to go live in the girls' dormitory again?"

Fakir smiled suddenly, trying to ignore the tingling warmth that seeped through his chest. _"Will I have to go live in the girls' dormitory again?"_

–She could have just asked if he was going to make her leave Charon's house. Make her leave him.

Ahiru's head snapped up when Fakir chuckled lightly. She couldn't seem to form words, either overwhelmed by surprise, sadness, or anger.

"Of course not, unless you want to." He stole a glance at her face to gauge her reaction before continuing in a faintly peeved tone, "–Why do you seem to think that I'm so eager to break our promise? Are you trying to tell me that you don't believe in my honor as a knight and a writer?" -Fakir didn't actually feel any anger or resentment toward Ahiru; he just wanted to see if he could break her from her melancholy musings.

Ahiru turned and leaned toward Fakir, her eyes wide with conviction, "N-no! I believe in your honor! I didn't mean it like that! I-I-!" Ahiru continued to stammer until Fakir raised a hand and placed it firmly on her shoulder.

"I know." He looked her straight in the eyes, that slight, sly smile peeking at the corner of his mouth.

Ahiru turned away and crossed her arms, a blush rising in her cheeks. "You could've said so."

Silence ensued once more, but this time it was an amiable, contented silence. Before long, Kinkan Tower rang out four times, the musical peals scattering birds across the sky. At the chimes, Fakir rose from his seat and looked toward Ahiru, whose gaze had fixed upon the birds in the sky. For a moment, Fakir just watched her as her eyes shone in the afternoon sunlight, her attention fixed on the wings of the heaven-bound birds.

Then, extending his hand, Fakir softly called, "Let's go home, moron."

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**A/N:** Heyyyyyy guess what? I'M NOT DEAD! MUHAHAHA…! .

I apologize for not having updated since August, but I'm going to do my best to make amends by cranking out the rest of this story which I have definitely put on hold for far too long. I hope to be finished by the end of the school year, if not earlier. We'll see how far my newfound commitment takes me.

This chapter seemed simultaneously too long and too short, but I just wanted to get the story rolling again and all that jazz. I know Ahiru seems sort of manic depressive and Fakir's favorite word seems to be "moron", but please bear with me. It's just a part of their character development. I. Also. Like. Really. Short. Disjointed. Sentences. -And asyndeton and polysyndeton and zeugma and aposiopesis. Ooh look! More polysyndeton!

So, if you haven't tired of my crazy antics and abuse of literary devices, please comment (actually, please comment, no matter what your opinion.) Feedback is always welcome!

(A million thanks to everyone who has already reviewed and thanks for reading!)

-MYH-

By the way, if anyone's interested, I submitted some new Princess Tutu fanarts to my dA account. You can find the link for my Ming-Yue-Huo account on my profile page. ^-^


	8. Lessons

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Eight: Lessons**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

...

How does one return to a life that one has forgotten?

Quite easily, it seemed. Ahiru couldn't be quite sure whether she should feel happy that her reappearance caused so little clamor. On one hand, it made far less work for Rue and Mytho, the former ushering her kindly into her class, and shushing the bemused chattering of Ahiru's fellow classmates with a foul look when Ahiru attempted her first pirouette in years. Not a single teacher or student questioned Ahiru's sudden presence in their classes, in the middle of the school year, or why it was that the head of the ballet school should suddenly take an interest in such a graceless young student whose skill level sank far below that of her classmates. This may have been due in part to the fact that many of Ahiru's fellow students had already moved on to higher level classes, or even begun their careers in dance elsewhere in the world, leaving the little town of Kinkan behind. Many of the teachers had also moved on to other schools or retired, including the ever famous Neko-sensei.

After class, the wall of mirrors in the dance studio entranced Ahiru while her classmates moved on to their other classes. Lingering, Ahiru studied herself in the leotard and old ballet shoes that Rue had lent her. Twisting side to side, her eyes traced the bizarre new angles of her face, the slope of her shoulders, the curves of her hips. No one recognized her now, with the childish innocence gone from her face and limbs, the sloping contours of early womanhood taking their hold on her body. Ahiru barely recognized herself, so profound was the difference between her earlier self and the one she knew now. Ahiru could live her life in any way she chose now, with no expectations from anyone around her.

Allowing herself one last glance in the mirror, just before she exited the room; her eyes up this close –those were the only things which still assured her of who she was. Their shape had changed, but their bright blue remained the same, unchanged and unchangeable. These wide-open eyes gazed back at her, curious, anxious, uncertain.

_This is what I wanted all along, isn't it? _

Clouds curled in wisps across the pale blue, almost white sky, pulling a gentle breeze with them across the academy greens. The bushes ruffled against each other almost conspiratorially as Ahiru passed. Slinging her bag full of dancing clothes over her shoulder, Ahiru listened idly to the drift of piano music on the air, imagining herself, perhaps in the future, dancing with all the grace and passion that she saw in all the other dancers at the academy. Drawing nearer to the music, Ahiru peered in, and witnessed in motion the contents of her dream.

Perfectly balanced, fluid, graceful, Rue spun and stepped delicately across the studio floor. Every step unplanned, and yet somehow meant to be, every twirl a perfect image of milkweed light upon a breeze. In this dance, Rue's fiery personality became muted and channeled itself into precision and control rather than in outward passion. Ahiru unabashedly stared, stopped dead in her tracks by Rue's incredible mastery of dance. Then suddenly, a cloud swept over the academy greens; Ahiru started at the sudden loss of warmth, but also at the entrance of Mytho to the dance. Stepping in to catch Rue mid-twirl, he balanced her effortlessly across his hip, pulled her into another spin, caught at her again, and pulled her close. Their bodies moved without resistance through the air, apart, then together, apart, and together again; they revolved around each other and finally met, their faces mere inches apart. Suddenly, acutely aware of the magnetism surging between them, Ahiru stumbled backward, feeling almost as if she had witnessed something sacred and wholly private. Something in her chest tingled yearningly, but she turned away from the window while the two spun again into their dance.

Something solid and warm very suddenly stopped Ahiru, mid-turn, like a less graceful version of Mytho's way of catching Rue. Ahiru stifled a loud quack which came out instead as a muffled squeal.

"How beautiful." Came a voice from above Ahiru's head. Backing away quickly, Ahiru stared up at Ranulf's green eyes. Regaining control of herself, Ahiru realized that he was not looking at her, and followed his gaze to the room where Rue and Mytho were dancing. At that moment, Mytho lifted Rue into the air where she lay draped as if upon thin air, reaching for the heavens, before Mytho pulled her back down to earth.

Unable to manage more than a mumble of agreement, Ahiru tore her eyes away from the dancers again to study Ranulf. The school uniform for the Kinkan Academy upperclassmen fit him well, lending him a polished look that only accented the air of royalty that Ahiru had earlier noticed. His shoes and uniform immaculately pressed and cleaned, standing so serenely admiring the dancing, Ranulf seemed to Ahiru almost like a fairytale prince. Perhaps it was just Ahiru's old instincts reacting, but becoming aware of this impression, she felt the sudden urge to curtsy or to perform some kind of gesture of deference to this princely figure.

Ranulf finally glanced away from the two dancers, catching Ahiru off guard with his green stare again. His brow briefly furrowed in bemused curiosity, and he opened his arms wide, turning his head side to side, keeping his eyes on her face. "Anything? Is there anything on me this time?"

Ahiru blushed furiously and looked away, toward the school fountain. "No, no. I'm sorry. I –I just think it's fascinating that you appreciate the art of dance." Her tone became instructive as she recalled one of Rue's stern lectures shortly before she had escorted Ahiru to her first class. "Rue always says there are too few people who truly appreciate the _beauty_ and _form_ of dance. She says that those who can see the mastery that goes into the art have a gift, as much as those who perform the dance themselves."

Ranulf, seeming to sense Ahiru's unwavering faith in Rue's opinions, laughed lightly and raised his hands to contest the point. "Well, I do believe there is a certain gift that endows its possessors with an appreciation of all life, but I do not know if I'm quite as gifted as this Rue might say. To me, all things have their value. The act of dancing is but one."

Ahiru laughed nervously, still somewhat anxious of the effect that Ranulf seemed to have on her. Perhaps fear of princes was merely an aftereffect of becoming Princess Tutu. At this thought, Ahiru imagined the exasperated look that Fakir might give her, were she to say such a silly thing. A smile crept onto her face, and her gaze drifted once again toward the school fountain. _Fakir always gets so serious about such little things_, thought Ahiru.

"-Did you hear what I said?" Ranulf's voice brought her back from her daydream.

"What?" Ahiru started, returning her gaze to Ranulf's face.

"The one to whom you broke your promise –did he forgive you?" Ranulf asked, eyes intent on her face.

_Fakir stood motionless in the doorway. "Go away." Rain; darkness; falling again and again. Being carried through the rain; tucked into bed. Waking up, rapping on his door with her palms stinging. Falling toward him, his arms around her… "You moron… Of course I don't care about that…"_

Ahiru shook her head lightly to clear it of the words and images. "I think so. At first it seemed as if he was angry… but in the end, he told me it didn't matter." When Ahiru looked up from the cobbles beneath her feet, she realized that Ranulf was studying her face intently.

"That's wonderful," he smiled, withdrawing his gaze and focusing once more on Rue and Mytho's dance.

"How is your studying going?" Ahiru quickly asked, feeling uncomfortable in the silence.

Ranulf shrugged. "I'm learning a great deal. The instructors here are somewhat closed minded, but they serve their purpose. I take it you've begun studying ballet again?" He asked after a moment, taking his eyes from the dance.

Ahiru looked down at her feet and replied, "Yes. I'm not very good though."

A small laugh drew Ahiru's attention to Ranulf again. Looking up, she saw his hand extended to her, a smile on his lips. "I'm sure you're not terrible."

Unsure of what Ranulf meant, Ahiru only laughed nervously. "No really… I am."

Ranulf waved away her words and held out his hand further, this time clearly enticing her to take it. "Dance with me," his eyes held hers for several seconds. Overhead, the clouds swirled against the bright blue sky, and the bushes and flowers rustled against each other, making their own music. These sounds rushed in to fill the gap where Ahiru found herself speechless, blushing to the tips of her ears.

Ahiru finally broke the eye contact, looking away. "I'm sorry. Maybe someday I'll get better though."

Ranulf withdrew his hand and nodded, smiling graciously. "I understand. I'll wait for that day then."

Across the grounds, the town bell tower sang out the hour, and Ranulf nodded to Ahiru, moving onward already. "I have a class to attend, but I look forward to talking with you again. Until then!" And with a friendly wave of the hand, he strode off down the long walkway, carrying a notebook tucked under his arm.

"Ahiru!" Rue's voice echoed off the building in the distance. Ahiru turned in time to see Mytho deliver a brief parting kiss to Rue before she hurried toward Ahiru, pulling on a light spring overcoat as she went. Reaching Ahiru, Rue looked in the direction that Ranulf had gone. "Who was that?" She very pointedly asked, eyeing Ahiru's fading blush.

Ahiru allowed herself a small nervous burst of laughter and tried to quell the bizarre feelings she'd just experienced. "His name is Ranulf. He's studying English here at Kinkan Academy." Twiddling her thumbs, Ahiru continued, "He asked me to dance with him, but I'm not very good-"

A small giggle reached Ahiru's ears; Rue, hand daintily covering her mouth, was enjoying Ahiru's sudden awkwardness. "My, my, Ahiru. Not a day has gone by and you're already causing a… _ruckus_ among the students here." She glanced out of the corner of her eyes at Ahiru as they began to walk down the length of the academy, toward the town. Ahiru made an apologetic squawk. "I –I'm so sorry, Rue! I didn't try to, I swear. I don't want to cause any kind of trouble for you or Mytho."

Rue merely laughed again and hugged Ahiru to her consolingly. "Don't worry, Ahiru. Maybe it just means he likes you."

The resultant incredulous stuttering from Ahiru as they exited the academy grounds was more than enough to assure Rue that Ahiru had some maturing to do before she was ready to handle the world she had just reentered.

Starting now.

"Ahiru?" Asked Rue coyly, still smiling at Ahiru's endearing naivety. Overhead, the sky began to alight with pink and gold as the sun set down over the Kinkan town.

"Eh?" Ahiru responded distantly, gazing up at the brilliantly illuminated clouds in awe.

"Do you know where ba- _ducklings_ come from?"

...

"So how was your first day of classes-" Charon began to ask kindly, welcoming Ahiru into the kitchen.

"-_EEP_!" Ahiru jumped at the sound of his voice, eyes jerking up from the floor to his puzzled face. Regaining control of manners, Ahiru laughed breathlessly and spouted, "It was good, thank you! I'm… um… tired. May I go to bed now?"

Perplexed, Charon nodded wordlessly. Fakir, holding the door open for Rue, watched Ahiru ascend the stairs rapidly and then returned his attention to the giggling woman in the hallway. "What the _heck _happened today?"

Rue merely turned away and stepped outside, waving her hand dismissively. "You can thank me later," she called out with an air of smugness, disappearing into the growing dusk.

When she heard her bedroom door creak open, Ahiru buried her head further under the blankets and tried desperately not to think of anything whatsoever. _Blank space, think of blank space…_

"Ahiru?" Fakir's voice, muffled through Ahiru's pillow but distinctly his, made its way into Ahiru's ears. The side of her bed audibly rustled and sank slightly as Fakir settled himself at her back. Ahiru scrunched her eyes closed even more tightly. "It's been a long time since you've been human," he began.

"I _know_." Ahiru's disgruntled reply emerged from beneath the blankets.

A corner of Fakir's mouth twitched. "It's difficult to get used to again. There are also a lot of things that you haven't learned yet."

Ahiru inwardly cringed at this remark.

"But I promise you, Ahiru. You'll get better at dancing. Rue and Mytho can help teach you, and… I'll do my best to teach you as well."

Ahiru wasn't certain whether it was the combination of blankets and pillows that was smothering her or just the fact that she'd temporarily forgotten how to breathe, but she _was_ fairly certain that the blood flow to her brain had just shuddered to a complete stop.

"Uh… anyway. I'll see you in the morning."

Ahiru felt Fakir's weight leave the bed and waited for the door to creak closed before she burst from the blankets for a fresh breath of air.

...

A/N: Huurrrhurrrhurr. Oh, double entendres, you slay me.

Now to everyone who's been urging me to continue this story… Well, at this point, an apology would seem kind of idiotic, wouldn't it? Nonetheless, I make my apology to you in new chapters. Thanks for sticking with me all this time (since my last update in February of 2009, to be exact.)

And, as always, please review! (Stern rebukes are welcome as well. I've certainly earned them by now.)

-MYH-


	9. Questions, Answers, and Surprises

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Nine: Questions, Answers, and Surprises**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

...

_Darkness surrounded her, icy and despondent… And yet it was different, somehow. _

_She looked around her, feeling the ominous nothingness pressing urgently against her skin. Searching for something, anything to make the darkness feel less empty, she grasped her own arms to assure herself of her own presence._

_There. A sound._

_She looked in the direction it had come from, seeing only the darkness._

_There, there again. A distant sound, rounded almost. Heart thudding loudly in her chest, but unwilling to stay motionless any longer, she moved toward the sound. Now it was behind her. A muffled warbling, a voice too distant for her to understand, sounded brokenly in the nothingness, cutting in and out of her hearing like a reflection before a broken mirror. Willing her heart to be quiet, she listened carefully, hardly breathing. The words rolled together and brushed against her ears with soft velvet sounds. Barely detectable, but undeniably there, the voice seemed to be pleading with someone. She thought she could make out words here and there, but their impression upon her was so tenuous that she found herself forgetting them as soon as she heard them. Still, she continued listening, somehow certain that there was something of vital importance in the voice, something she had to understand…_

_Suddenly, a burst of wings flapping loud and close in her ears drowned out the voice deafeningly. Ahiru gasped and looked up, shielding herself with her arms._

…

The ceilings of Charon's house always looked like the surface of the moon, this early in the morning. Ahiru sometimes studied the way the early sunlight cast shadows across its lightly textured surface and imagined that the shadows were the shadows of vast lunar mountains which overlooked hauntingly beautiful ivory plains and valleys, caves and barren lakes.

Now, Ahiru merely stared at the textured patterns and, plain as they might have been, she was glad to finally have a sense of space and time and solid, unquestionable _thereness_. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Ahiru languidly pushed away the blankets she had cocooned herself in and sat at the edge of her bed, still taking in the sparse but merrily-lit floor, walls, and ceiling of her bedroom.

Another sudden burst of flapping and frantic tapping elicited a yelp from Ahiru, who dove behind her bed for cover. Risking a brief look at the source of the sound, Ahiru poked her head over the edge of the bed. Against the slightly dusty window, the warped shadows of a pigeon danced, wings turned ghostly white by the morning sun. Its talons scratched awkwardly against the pockmarked glass. With a brilliant smile, Ahiru bounded to the window and threw it open wide, welcoming in the pigeon. This gesture of welcome, full of good intentions as it was, was nonetheless made without regard to the pigeon's proximity to the outward swinging window panes. With a dull _thwack_, the pigeon dropped pitifully out of sight. For a moment, Ahiru's bright expression dissolved into one of sheer horror as she realized what she had done. Fortunately, a second later, Ahiru's expression changed once again to a mélange of delight and terror as the pigeon eagerly swung up and in through her window, directly into her face.

In the sunlit kitchen, Charon and Fakir each glanced up toward the ceiling upon hearing a dull thud followed by a muffled shriek. Mug of tea poised before his lips, Fakir rolled his eyes briefly before taking a sip. Charon, still unused to the frequent and endearingly destructive clumsiness of his new guest, listened for a few moments longer before resuming his own breakfast. He did not, however, miss the amused upward curves at the sides of his adopted son's mouth. The civilized clink of cutlery against porcelain plates added a melodic essence to the thundering and giggling music of that morning.

….

"You have a feather in your hair, you know." Rue remarked, smilingly pulling the feather in question from an auburn wisp of hair near Ahiru's ear. Tossing it into a waste basket as the two made their way down the hall, Rue placed her hand on Ahiru's shoulder. "So, Ahiru," she began, "I have a little surprise for you."

At this, Ahiru's attention snapped to Rue's face, eyes wide. "Really? Rue, I've only been learning for a week and you're already helping me so much -!"

Rue interrupted her, her voice growing hushed with excitement, "Well, since you're starting in the school year a little bit late, I thought I'd give you a chance to catch up a little bit. You see, there's a new teacher in training here and she said she would love to teach privately to hone her skills as a teacher. As such, I thought maybe you two could practice together every day now on." Rue smiled at Ahiru's expression of incredulity. "I believe you can become a beautiful dancer, Ahiru. "

"Ah-! Rue, thank you… I –I don't know what to say. I'm so excited and I'll do my best to make you pr-!" Ahiru stammered her gratitude until they drew level with the last classroom at the end of the hall and she noticed the young woman dancing there to the trills of a lively piano melody.

In spite of her perfect bun, some violet-tinged strands fell down playfully at the sides of her face, following in her path of motion. Trim but delicately strong, the dancer's figure conveyed her dedication to the art of dancing, yet her face suggested the endurance of her youthfully mischievous disposition, one that Ahiru remembered quite clearly.

Of a thousand questions born in the wake of Ahiru's transformation, each waiting eagerly at the back of her mind, one question sprang forward to claim its answer: _What happened to Pique after I left?_

Pique performed a final leap, the afternoon sun flitting across her face at the zenith of her passage. Flawlessly she landed, arms cast outward from her body in a posture of openness and joyful triumph. Releasing her pose after a few moments, Pique noticed the two people standing in the doorway, now unobstructed by her raised arm.

Ahiru held her breath, waiting for the answer to the next question which had leapt forward on the tail of the first.

Silence, soundlessly present, stretched itself out tersely between the three women. Then: "That was very well done, Pique. I have no doubt you'll do a wonderful job of teaching our newest student." Rue's firm voice filled the silence, and broke the spell keeping Ahiru silent.

"Yes, it was very good!" She shrilled nervously, "I'll do my best to be a good student. I hope that someday I'll be just as good as-"

"-_Ahiru_?"

Ahiru stopped short and, meeting Pique's eyes, took in her old friend's look of astonished recognition. The question in her mind happily took its leave.

"AHIIIIIRU!" Pique squealed and dashed across the floor, pulling Ahiru into a tight hug. "Oh, you're still just as cute as when I last saw you! Where have you been? Did you travel to a far away country to follow your true love, only to have your heart dashed when he took another lady as his queen?" As Pique fired questions excitedly at Ahiru, Ahiru began to wonder whether Pique actually intended to receive answers. The evidence suggested not when Pique finally calmed and stepped back to get a proper view of Ahiru's face. Before Ahiru could attempt to answer any of her questions, however, Rue saved her the difficulty of answering the first one with a surprised question of her own.

"Ahiru? Pique? You know each other?"

Pique's excitation level sprang back up as she made her vehement answer, "Oh but yes, Miss Rue! When Ahiru was just beginning her floundering in the apprentice class, Lilie and I were the ones who told her every day just how wonderfully adorable she was each time she tried. We convinced her that even when she failed, she always warmed our hearts with amusement, so her efforts weren't for nothing!" Pique drew Ahiru suddenly backwards into another vice-like embrace, as if to demonstrate their flawless friendship.

Rue looked from Pique's radiant face to Ahiru's, then to Pique's again. "Well, don't be too hard on her. For now, I'd like you to bring her up to the same skill level as her classmates in time for the Winter Arts Festival. I trust you both to do your best." At this, Rue looked again at Ahiru, offering an encouraging smile.

Ahiru, head still locked in Pique's arms, nodded as best she could, and Rue departed the classroom to attend her own afternoon practice session.

Pique, now settling into her role as Ahiru's new instructor, released Ahiru and walked out to the center of the classroom, gesturing for Ahiru to join her. Hurrying into the same patch of sunlight that Pique occupied, Ahiru imitated her new instructor, settling into the ever-familiar first position; feet relaxed and together, back arched comfortably, arms forming gentle twin curves as if each hand was reaching for the other. Stealing a quick glance at Pique, Ahiru tried to raise her chin proudly and elegantly as Pique did.

Now in a firm, focused voice, Pique called out, "Okay, Ahiru. We'll start with the basics, and move on from there." With a last mischievous glance toward Ahiru, her now friendly voice playfully dared Ahiru: "Show me what you can do."

The patch of sunlight beneath their feet moved on jovially that afternoon, accompanying their movements with a dance of its own.

….

Amber light from low on the horizon shone through the water in the glass from which Pique was drinking, casting tiny arcs of light across the floor and walls of the classroom. Pique finished her gulp of water with a satisfied _ah_ and turned to Ahiru with a smile. "Well, Ahiru, your awkwardness is still just as adorable as ever."

Ahiru's shoulders drooped almost imperceptibly, but Pique continued, "All the same, you seem even more determined to succeed than last time, so I'm sure we can work together to make you worthy of dancing in the Winter Arts Festival!" Pique stepped toward Ahiru and nudged her, suggesting, "Who knows? Maybe you'll catch the eye of another prince who really will make you his queen!"

Ahiru nodded, feeling slightly better. Somewhat dazed from the dancing, Ahiru gazed out the classroom window and across the academy greens cast with long shadows, and toward the setting sun. _Another day as a human, finished._

"…And ever since you disappeared, Lilie and I were worried, but we always knew you'd come back. We knew you were too determined not to come back, although we were desolate without you to entertain us with your beautiful struggles…" Pique's voice drifted in and out of Ahiru's awareness as she thought to herself, resting her chin pensively on the practice bar along the window.

_Pique is here to teach me, so I'll have a chance to become better at dancing, and I'll be able to talk to her when things get difficult. _

"…Then Lilie went off to France to dance in a big production with Femio at her side and I was so lonely without her, but I persevered, and I remembered how you always had the strength to go on, even when everything seemed completely and utterly hopeless…"

_I have Pique and Rue and Mytho and Fakir supporting me. It feels so easy, so natural, being here. Like I belong here…_

"…So I could have gone on to dance in other countries myself, but there was just something about this town that held me back. I didn't want to leave, so I decided I would become a teacher here…"

_Maybe I really do belong here… But what is my purpose here?_

"_BANG!"_

The sun flashed violently in Ahiru's eyes and a loud scratching and flapping obliterated Ahiru's musings. Pique was just beginning to ask Ahiru where she was living when Ahiru shrieked shrilly, pushing herself away from the window, stumbling, and falling loudly. Pique rushed to Ahiru, almost as delighted as she was concerned about Ahiru's well-being. Looking up at what had startled Ahiru, she caught a glimpse of glossy black wings at the window before the bird took off into the now scarlet-lined horizon.

"I'm okay," Ahiru leapt to her feet, rubbing her head sheepishly. "But I should go meet Rue before she leaves without me."

Pique gave her one last hug before Ahiru fled the room, still trembling slightly from the shock. When the bird had crashed into the window, Ahiru, for an instant, recalled the day the Monster Raven took over the town, turning everyone into ravens, setting them after her, not just to stop her, but to humiliate her and finally kill her. The flashes of talons and sharp-edged beaks and the harsh flapping of their wings in her memory had surged back to the surface of her mind for just a moment, and then her fall had quite literally knocked her back into the reality, where she was sitting on the other side of a glass that an errant raven had neither the ability nor the inclination to penetrate.

Laughingly lightly to dispel the tension in her chest, Ahiru climbed down the stairs, exited the building, and came upon the classroom where Rue was finishing up her practicing in the setting sunlight. Today, the strains of music were different; softer, yet more urgent, filled with a dormant passion that Ahiru found entrancing. This music suited Rue's personality very well, and it showed in the enjoyment with which Rue made each step and pose.

With a sudden jolt, Ahiru realized that the music was no longer coming from an automatic piano scroll, but rather from a live pianist, who seemed as passionate as the music which poured from his fingers, into the piano, and out into the open air. This fact was not nearly as surprising, however, as the fact that the person playing the piano was perhaps the last person she would have expected: Ranulf.

Although his back was turned, the posture and movements were unmistakably his. His blonde hair slipped gradually into his eyes as he bent passionately toward the piano keys, but that didn't seem to deter him from his melody. After a moment, however, he made a quick jerk with his head to flip the hair out of his eyes, and Ahiru smiled. He may never have mentioned that he was a professional pianist in addition to being a gifted English student, but at least he couldn't play the piano blindly.

The song ended finally, and Rue finished with a powerful pose representing vindication and justice, and then relaxed into a normal standing position to thank Ranulf. Ahiru couldn't hear their voices as well as she could the piano music, but Ranulf's nod was formal and yet friendly, displaying just the perfect balance of propriety and camaraderie. He and Rue chatted briefly and then Ahiru could see Rue but him goodbye, before she disappeared from the practice room. Moments later, the door in the side of the building opened, and Rue smiled brilliantly at Ahiru, clearly very satisfied with today's practice.

"Alright, Ahiru, let's get you home. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but that young gentleman truly has a gift with piano. I certainly approve of this conquest you've made."

Ahiru blushed slightly, beginning to adjust to the lecture Rue had given her a week earlier. "I know what you said about him, but I'm sure he's just being friendly. Besides, I'm just an apprentice class ballet student, and he's in the gifted classes in English and he plays piano. I'm sure somebody like me wouldn't have anything to do with someone like him…" Ahiru trailed off, twiddling her fingers.

Rue playfully ruffled Ahiru's hair, a chagrined smile at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, Ahiru… Perhaps you'll understand someday that there's more to who you are than just that."

…..

The setting sun was just barely grazing the rooftops of Kinkan town as Ahiru opened the front door of _Schmied_ and peered outside in both directions to ensure that no one was watching. Slipping out into the street, Ahiru snuck around the side of the building, past the one-horse stable at its edge, and beyond, to the grassy area behind the house. This small clearing was encircled by an irregular row of maple and oak trees and low-lying shrubs. Although it seemed unremarkable, four years earlier it had not existed. Only after the disappearance of the great town wall did this clearing appear, tranquil and healthy as if it had been there all along. In this place, beyond the boundaries of the old story, it seemed that anything was possible.

Once again scanning the clearing and the shadows of the trees encircling the small area, Ahiru plopped herself down in the grass to stretch. Her legs were already somewhat sore from Pique's training, but during their two hours together she'd felt so happy, going through the exercises and movements, that she couldn't resist doing some more practicing on her own.

The ground sank away as Ahiru raised herself to a standing position, assuming her first pose, she began to flow through some basic movements, one after another, focusing on her balance and posture and form. Without the practice bar, Ahiru wobbled unsteadily, but she held her hand out as if it were there, at least allowing her mind the illusion of stability. All the same, it seemed to help, and Ahiru soon began to hear the music in her head from her afternoon class with Pique. Closing her eyes, Ahiru's body began to follow the music, drifting away from the imaginary practice bar and out into the center of the clearing. She spun and stopped herself, springing into a leap, and in her mind, she saw Pique leap in tandem, smiling at her in approval. As she touched down, an uneven spot in the ground caught her foot at an awkward angle and she stumbled forward, caught by the force of her momentum.

"_Oof_!" Ahiru crashed into something solid which seemed to flex around her, absorbing the shock of her collision. Heart beating thunderously, Ahiru pushed her face from Fakir's sternum and looked up into his bemused eyes. Expecting some kind of stern rebuke for her clumsiness or perhaps for practicing out here alone at dusk with her eyes closed, no less, Ahiru's eyes opened wide when Fakir's hand slid from its supporting grip on her shoulder and down to her hand on his chest. Stepping back into the stance for a _pas de deux_, Fakir held her hand suspended between them and murmured, "So why don't you show me what you've learned today?"

A blush surged up Ahiru's neck and flooded into her face; the edges of her ears prickled and burned with the sudden blood rush. "Bu- but, Fakir, I'm still not very good…!" Ahiru's sentence ended on her lips as Fakir drew her gently toward him, closing what had seemed like an unsurpassable distance in a mere second. -And then suddenly, the music rushed back into Ahiru's mind, lilting and bright, and she found herself sweeping her free arm wide, one leg simultaneously rising and forming a smoothly continuous arc, from the strong arch of her foot, down to her spine, up to the nape of her neck. Holding this position for one sweetly ephemeral moment, Ahiru then performed a _fondu_, melting toward the ground feelingly before springing back upward and into a _pirouette_. Fakir's hand trailed against her waist, guiding her, and Ahiru felt for a moment the stopping of time, as the world halted and watched their dance. The trees and the dusky sky and sultry air faded away until all that was left was pure feeling, an elemental substance through which Fakir and Ahiru moved, leaving a trail of glimmering memories.

Then time came seeping silently back, and the ground, and the sky, and trees, and the cry of a lone cricket in the grass settled into their places and resumed their roles. Ahiru, in her finishing pose, found herself staring up at the soft pink and gold edges of the clouds as they trailed overhead, drifting through her outstretched fingers. Her heart beat evenly, calmly, contentedly. Ahiru's attention drifted from the brilliant sky overhead to Fakir's face. Some strands of his hair had come loose from their tie and were trailing into his face, obscuring his eyes from her partially. Absently, she reached up to brush them away, but at her movement Fakir abruptly released her and turned away, keeping a single hand on her arm to ensure at least that she didn't fall. Ahiru stumbled backward and straightened, perplexed.

"We should go inside. I'm sure Charon's done preparing dinner by now." Fakir released Ahiru's arm as he began to walk toward the house, beckoning over his shoulder to Ahiru in the same motion.

"Wait! Fakir –What about my dancing?" She darted after him, calling out in a mildly indignant voice. This was such a Fakir thing to do; surprising her while she was trying to practice, demanding that she dance for him, and suddenly dropping her without explanation. In Ahiru's indignation, she crashed again into Fakir when he halted in his steps.

Turning to face her after a moment, Fakir closed his eyes and heaved a small sigh in exasperation, almost as if giving her his opinion was a far greater burden than she realized. "It'll do," he supposed, and, deciding that he had nothing further to say, disappeared around the corner of the stable, leaving Ahiru to fume at Fakir's infuriatingly-timed reticence.

"Grrr… Always bossing me around and not telling me things…" Ahiru's irritation preserved the blush that had been slipping from her cheeks, and stomped after him as convincingly as a girl of her petite size could, already smelling the pacifying fragrance of sautéed onions and chopped celery in the air.

…..

"Oh my, Ahiru!" Pique exclaimed, when she arrived in their classroom, only to find Ahiru already stretching enthusiastically at the practice bar. "Well, aren't you the eager student! You haven't changed a bit. It's so adorable…" She trailed off, placing a glass of water on the floor near the piano and reaching up to flick the switch on the piano to start the inserted scroll.

"Wait! Uh… Pique," Ahiru began, releasing her leg from the bar and returning it to the floor. Pique looked up attentively, and Ahiru continued, "I was thinking… I know Rue thinks I can move out of the apprentice class soon, but I want to do even better than that. I…" she gulped, preparing herself for what she knew she was about to inflict upon herself, "I was wondering if you could… train me even harder. I'll do my best to keep up and practice at home!" She bowed instinctively, as if this would be a great ordeal for Pique to undertake though she knew otherwise. When she raised her head, the maniacal gleam in Pique's otherwise innocent eyes sent white trails of fire straight to her stomach. _Oh dear._ _What have I done…?_

Pique's gentle laugh rolled through the classroom, and she smiled lightly, approaching Ahiru with a peculiar look on her face. "Ohh, I see Ahiru. You really are determined, aren't you?" Ahiru could have sworn there was an evil cackle sitting darkly at the back of her instructor's throat. "Well, that's wonderful; just what I love about you, Ahiru! Through pain and danger and impending death, you will never give up your mission to become the least mediocre ballerina that ever existed, and I shall happily aid you!" Pique's voice was taking on a burgeoning dramatic quality, and Ahiru began to wonder if she'd made a rather grave mistake. Pique finally reached her and stooped swiftly, grabbing Ahiru's ankle and raising her leg. Ahiru scrunched her eyes shut, preparing for the searing pain that usually accompanied Pique's stretching sessions. Rather than feeling pain, however, Ahiru felt Pique stop. When she looked down, Ahiru's leg was raised parallel to the floor, hardly a stretch for her at all. Then Pique released Ahiru's leg and, seeing that Ahiru obediently kept it in place, walked back to the piano, flicking the switch. Stepping back out into the center of the classroom, Pique began to dance nonchalantly, spinning and making short jumps in time to the almost mockingly cheerful melody.

Feeling the burning just beginning to set into her muscles, Ahiru said in as level a voice as possible, "Umm… Pique? How long do you want me to hold this?"

Pique laughed nonchalantly and continued dancing, "Oh, I'll let you know when to stop. Just keep breathing regularly and think of how awful it'll be if you fail!"

Now, as the burning sank its fiery teeth into her leg, Ahiru found and focused on a smudge high on the opposing wall of the classroom. Ignoring Pique's joyous twirling in her peripheral vision, Ahiru gritted her teeth and stared straight ahead at that unexpectedly malicious-looking smudge. Under her breath she growled, "I'll get him to say more than just, 'It'll do.'"

….

A/N: _Perhaps_ it was just my crazy, far-fetched imagination, but Pique and Lilie said the most appallingly _cruel_ things when consoling Ahiru. I mean, come on! They had a party to celebrate her being jilted in love. Nonetheless, Pique is back to support and love Ahiru in her own extremely bizarre way. Don't worry though –Pique certainly is eager, but she understands the limits of the body, so Ahiru isn't going to end up with any lasting injuries from Pique's instruction.

That said, it feels so good to have only a week between me and my last update! I'll do my best to keep it up.

As always, please leave a review! Feedback, speculations, questions, strongly-worded opinions, or what have you, I'd love to hear it all, and I'll get back to you as soon as I am able.

Well, until next Monday!

-MYH


	10. Thinking While Walking

_**The Heart Within**_

By

_Ming-Yue-Huo_

**Chapter Ten: Thinking While Walking**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Princess Tutu.

…..

"Ahiru?"

At Fakir's voice, Ahiru stopped on the doorway to the hall and turned around, looking curiously back into the kitchen. Fakir sat at the table, a cup of tea in his hand. His eyes were closed as if in some kind of frustration.

Ahiru stepped hesitantly back into the kitchen, wondering if something was wrong. "Eh, um –I was going to go visit Pique's house across town, if you don't mind. I left her address on a paper on the counter for you, if you-"

"Why are you bringing an umbrella?" Fakir interrupted her, finally opening his eyes to look at her. She couldn't be certain, but Ahiru thought she noticed a tiny curve at the corner of his mouth. She looked down at the umbrella in her hand, studying it briefly for some defect or problem. Seeing nothing, Ahiru glanced back up at Fakir. He merely glanced behind him and, following his gaze, Ahiru saw the sun shining on the street and glinting off the windows of the opposing houses outside. Fakir looked back at Ahiru pointedly.

She shrugged shyly. "I just thought the air smelled different today. You won't mind if I bring it, will you, Fakir? There's another one in the hall for you if you need it." Ahiru raised the umbrella and rested it against her shoulder unopened, as if it was a parasol.

Fakir only sipped his tea and shook his head, "I won't mind, but I doubt you'll need it."

A chuckle reached their ears as Charon entered the kitchen and shuffled over to pour himself some tea. "I wouldn't be so quick to doubt her, Fakir. Her intuition can be surprisingly accurate."

Fakir, not enjoying Charon's new habit this past week of siding with Ahiru purely for the sake of it, scoffed and took another sip of his tea. Leaning back so he could see her, Charon winked at her and Ahiru put her hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. Seeing that her exchange with Fakir had ended, Ahiru turned back toward the doorway, calling over her shoulder that she'd be back in an hour or two.

Outside, she sniffed the air once or twice again. Yes, there it was. The scent of the air had changed over the past few weeks, becoming warmer and more intense with the onset of the summer heat. The usual slight earthy tang, mingling with the scents of the flowers in the gardens and window boxes of houses that Ahiru passed, was certainly there. Ahiru could slightly detect something different, however; a cool, sweet scent lay under the other smells. As such, Ahiru figured it wouldn't hurt for her to carry an umbrella across town for her visit with Pique.

Ahiru's violet-haired instructor had discovered a few days before, that Ahiru's wardrobe of clothing consisted mainly of her school uniform, and two or three daytime dresses that Rue had given to her until she had the time to shop for Ahiru properly. Ahiru had considered this incredibly kind of Rue, but apparently it wasn't enough for Pique. Upon hearing this, Pique shrieked and grabbed Ahiru by the cheeks. "Ohhh, my modest little Ahiru! Working so hard and having no lovely clothes to wear to charm any princes!" Pique let go of Ahiru's face, grasping instead at one of her hands and dizzyingly twirling Ahiru where she stood, examining her figure. When she released Ahiru, the latter spun dazedly in circles while Pique put a hand to her chin and muttered to herself, "Yes… a sundress would be lovely… No, several sundresses! She must dance in the town square and sparkle in the sunlight for all to see…!" and so it went. Thus it was decided (by Pique) that Ahiru should visit her that weekend, where Pique would find some of her old sundresses and other articles of clothing and dress up Ahiru "like a cute little porcelain doll", as Pique put it. While the prospect of being fussed over by Pique had no particular appeal, Ahiru blushed when Pique commented on her 'astounding' beauty and how many princes would come flocking from their respective kingdoms to proclaim their love. Glancing at her reflection in the window of the classroom, Ahiru studied herself closely. She wasn't ugly. -But to say that she was _beautiful_…that seemed like a bit of an exaggeration. Certainly she wasn't beautiful enough for a prince, let alone the boys at the academy; she and beauty and romance simply didn't go together. Rue had indeed given her that mortifying talk several weeks ago, but beyond trying as hard as she could to forget that conversation, Ahiru hadn't given much thought to romance. In her efforts to fit in again, to no longer be a burden to those who cared for her, and to do well in her ballet classes, perhaps she had merely forgotten about love and romance altogether. Nonetheless the blush stayed in her cheeks and something in her chest shifted, urging her to reconsider her perception of love as some kind of rare phenomenon that only ever happened to other people. _Perhaps… Perhaps… It could happen, right?_ Caving to that feeling, Ahiru shyly thought, _Well, I suppose it would be nice to have something pretty to wear every now and then…_

And yet, as Ahiru made her way through town, another blush rose into her cheeks. "What am I thinking?" She exhaled exasperatedly. As Princess Tutu, she had fallen in love with the one man she was never meant to have, and to whom she could never confess her love. Given this, her sole encounter with romance, becoming caught up in such thoughts might just send her stumbling down a road that she wasn't meant to take. Pushing that notion from her mind, she rallied and made a vow to herself. Right now, she was going to pour every ounce of her spirit into becoming a true ballet dancer. She would not allow her spirit to be shaken by any self-pity or doubt. This was her purpose, one she had given to herself and one she would honor. Romance could wait.

So resolute was Ahiru that she missed Ranulf's friendly greeting as she passed by. Umbrella in one hand, Pique's address on a slip of paper in the other, she marched for a few seconds more before the realization hit. She spun mid-step and her eyes locked on Ranulf's face.

"Ahiru?" His blonde hair slipped across his forehead in a slight breeze, and Ahiru felt another blush rising in her cheeks at her apparent rudeness.

"Ahh, I'm sorry! I was just thinking about something and I guess I walked right past you." She giggled abashedly, shielding her eyes from the sun to better see Ranulf's face. He was smiling warmly, unoffended by Ahiru's mindlessness.

"That's alright. Every now and then, it's good to lose oneself in one's thoughts. Sometimes, the world just becomes so distracting that one just has to get away from it all." Ranulf's formality had on other occasions, intimidated Ahiru and made her scramble to speak more eloquently. Today however, his polite tone, contrasted against the sounds of the bustling town market and the robust summer sun and the chirping birds overhead, seemed awkwardly out of place. Ahiru couldn't resist a small amused giggle which escaped her lips, much to her embarrassment. Ranulf seemed not to notice, although Ahiru thought that perhaps his eyes had flickered slightly at the sound.

Ahiru berated herself inwardly, but drove the worries from her mind and asked politely, "So what are you doing in town today?"

Ranulf shook a lock of hair from his eyes and looked back at the street from which he had come. "I was merely taking a walk." His gaze shifted from the street to the rooftops above, observing the architecture. "Kinkan Town is a fascinating place."

Ahiru nodded vehemently, following Ranulf's gaze and wondering what the town looked like through his eyes. "I think so too."

After a moment of silence, Ranulf looked back down at Ahiru and returned her inquiry: "What are you doing in town, yourself?" He eyed Ahiru's umbrella with a hint of curiosity.

Ahiru looked up the street that led to Pique's house, gripping the written address in her hand. "I'm visiting my friend." Ahiru hoped she wouldn't have to explain her shortage of prince-charming garments.

Ranulf didn't inquire any further, however. "Ah, I see. Perhaps you'd allow me to accompany you part of the way?"

Ahiru paused for a moment, blushing further. Now that her mind was on the topic of princes, she studied him and the way he stood comfortably before her: Hair lightly swept to the side and lit softly in the sun, clothes neatly cleaned and pressed, asking courteously whether she'd tolerate his company, Ranulf looked very much like a prince. Pique would love him.

Becoming aware of the growing silence, Ahiru stuttered for a moment and finally thanked him for the offer. He gave her a dazzling little smile and Ahiru turned her head away to hide the blush as they continued together up the street. Pique would certainly give her grief about this, in a loving way. With her insistence upon Ahiru's cuteness, she was always searching for opportunities to prove her point. Glancing out of the corner of her eye at Ranulf, whose gaze was set far ahead as they walked, Ahiru examined his expression and movements. There was something regal and gentlemanly about him. He always spoke to Ahiru very politely. Pique would most certainly suggest that Ranulf liked her, whether or not it was even vaguely true. Ahiru closed her eyes, shaking her head lightly. That was impossible. _Besides, _she thought, _he's just a very courteous person all the time. I don't think I've ever seen him behave otherwise…_

"I enjoy exploring Kinkan," Ranulf said beside her, and Ahiru looked up at him, slightly startled. "There's something about it that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's special. I'm sure my grandfather would be happy to hear that as well. He says he always thought of the town as a magical place when he was a boy. Having seen some of it, I can certainly see why he'd say that." Ranulf's mouth held the faint trace of a smile, as if he was suppressing his delight in favor of stoicism.

Ahiru smiled, silently agreeing with Ranulf's comment. _Kinkan Town is a magical place… but thankfully, the magic is mostly gone. _As Ahiru looked around her at the sunlight gleaming off windowpanes and lighting up the cobblestones, she saw in her memory echoes of the animals that used to wear dresses and the doors of the town that never opened, none of which the townspeople ever questioned. Certainly, Kinkan was magical, but it had that power on its own. The magic in the animals and the doors hadn't added anything to its beauty because it hadn't been out of the ordinary. What was the beauty of magic that no one ever noticed or had the freedom to appreciate? It was far better to live in a world where no magic existed, except for that which could be seen and explained.

_And yet… _Ahiru's solid, human footsteps in the street, and the light brush of her hand against the fabric of her dress, and the feel of the sunlight on the bare skin of her shoulders reminded her that she was the one exception to this entire mentality. _If it wasn't for magic, I wouldn't be here… _

"I have to wonder what you were thinking about when I intercepted you. It must have been rather captivating." Ranulf's voice interrupted her thoughts again, amiably breaking the silence that Ahiru had left unfilled after his comment.

Ahiru started, becoming aware of her rudeness. "Well, um… I was wondering why some things happen the way they do," she blurted out, thinking of how Princess Tutu had been written to love the prince and to die because of her unrequited love for him. Drosselmeyer had written that ending for her, but she had risen above it. She hadn't confessed her love, she hadn't disappeared, and even when she became a duck again, she never lost the power of hope that had blossomed inside her. Surely that hadn't been written in any story.

Ranulf raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean."

Ahiru inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to think of how to phrase her thoughts in a more precise and simultaneously vague manner. "Well, um… What if there was a young boy who had a dream…" Ahiru paused, hastily pulling the story together in her head. An image of Fakir writing at his desk in the mornings drifted into her mind and words rose to her lips, unbidden. "The boy dreamed that he wanted to become a famous writer someday, and he wrote every day so he could become a good writer. But then he stopped writing because…" Ahiru paused, veering away from what she'd been about to say, "-Because he didn't know what to write about. Then one day, he met a girl who inspired him to write a story about her." Ahiru could hear the ridiculousness of her example as she said it, but she continued, aware that at this point there was no turning back, "-And everyone loved his story… and he became famous and got everything that he ever wanted." She hesitated a moment before she spoke again. "So why did he become famous? Was it because he wrote every day and became a better writer?" Ahiru slowed slightly as she walked, studying the cobbles beneath her feet and the way they seemed to so mechanically pass beneath her feet. Was she really moving forward, or was she perhaps staying in place as the world moved itself beneath her? Ahiru's heart skipped a beat at that thought, but she took a deep breath and spoke again. "Or was it maybe… because he was _meant_ to become a writer…? And all the work he did, it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't?" Ranulf was silent for several seconds, and Ahiru guessed that she had lost him in confusion completely with her story. She stuttered, "Eh… I know it's sort of a bad example, but-"

"Are you asking me whether fate exists?" Ranulf's voice held its usual friendly tone, his expression its customary warmth, but Ahiru's heart sped up upon hearing her thoughts so succinctly phrased. He had understood her perfectly. Finding no words for a response, Ahiru only nodded. Silence sprouted and grew in the pause after Ranulf's question. After a several seconds, he sighed. Looking down at Ahiru, he postulated, "Well, I suppose the answer to your questions depends on several factors…" He thought for a moment, and then glanced sideways at Ahiru, lightly raising an eyebrow. "Did this story actually happen?"

Ahiru started with a nervous giggle and stuttered that it hadn't. "-It really was just a story… I guess I was thinking of one of my friends…" Ahiru admitted, twining her hands tightly in the folds of her borrowed dress.

Ranulf looked away, and continued to think. "Hm. Well, if this is just a story… I'd be inclined to say that it was his destiny and not his hard work."

Ahiru frowned in confusion. "But why is that?"

Ranulf shrugged again. "If it's just a story, isn't it more interesting when one character's success depends solely on one chance meeting? Or when, despite unsurpassable odds, the hero still wins the battle?" Seeing the odd look on Ahiru's face, he paused, and his tone lowered as if he sensed offense. "You're asking about whether I think fate exists in real life, though, aren't you? -If this writer of yours existed, whether he'd be a writer whether or not he'd worked so hard to develop his talent?"

Around them, trees began to thicken as the road led them from town into the forest. Ahiru might have noticed had she paid more attention to the numbers on the paper in her hand, but her mind was preoccupied with what Ranulf's question. Keeping her voice level, Ahiru nodded. "Maybe the girl inspired him to write a really good story, but he must have been a good writer before that, thanks to all his hard work, right?"

"And why do you espouse that opinion?" Ranulf asked.

Ahiru chewed gently on her lip and observed the light filtering through the trees' shifting leaves, only distantly aware that there was anything wrong about it. After a moment, she responded, "I'm not sure."

"Perhaps," Ranulf murmured, "You say that because you'd rather not live in a world where that isn't true." Beneath their feet, the cobble-paved street had turned to dirt road and whispering grass.

A feeling which had been growing inside Ahiru's stomach lurched violently, and she swallowed hard. Ranulf's words weren't something she wanted to hear. She should have no doubts whatsoever. _After all our efforts to accept them, Fakir and I conquered our fates and made a new story. But in Fakir's story, all the characters have their own free will… right?_

Ahiru recalled Fakir setting up his desk on the first morning after the defeat of the raven.

_The lamp that Ahiru had rescued from the Academy library's basement glowed warmly at a corner of the desk. It illuminated an ink bottle and a duck-feather quill at the top, and several sheets of paper in a drawer to the right. Drawing two sheets of paper from the drawer, Fakir explained to Ahiru, "Drosselmeyer wrote what would happen in the future, and so he controlled the fates of everyone in the town even after death, including himself. Autor told me that my powers are strong enough to do that too, but I won't do what Drosselmeyer did. If I do not write about the future, the town will create its own story and my writing will merely be a recording of its events. Everyone will have the power to do what they want with their lives." _

Ahiru found herself nodding in agreement with Fakir, even as she recalled the memory while walking with Ranulf.

"So that is how you feel then?" Ranulf asked, believing her nod of agreement was directed toward his statement. Ahiru couldn't deny it, but she and Fakir and Rue and Mytho, and everyone else in the town had already escaped Drosselmeyer's story, hadn't they? If that was true, then even thinking about this topic should have been irrelevant. And yet… why could she feel these doubts swirling at the back of her mind? What did she have to fear?

Responding in as even a tone as she could manage, Ahiru murmured, "Yes," her hands still buried anxiously in the folds of her dress.

This elicited a small _"Ah"_ of understanding from Ranulf. Saying nothing more for the moment, he looked straight ahead, still smiling, always smiling. Ahiru wondered if beneath that smile there lay emotions other than pleasant contentment. She was still studying him out of the corner of her eye when he halted in his steps, peering down the narrow dirt path they'd been following. "Are you sure your friend lives this way? I don't see any houses around here."

For the first time, Ahiru really looked at her surroundings. The warm scarlet of her embarrassment wash over her face and ears. "Umm…" She looked at the piece of paper in her hand as if it might offer some explanation for her mindlessness, but she knew that they'd already walked far away from town. Turning to look back the way they'd come, Ahiru saw only trees around them. Looking back on the dirt road they had traveled, Ahiru made the startling discovery that it divided into several different paths; she wasn't sure which one they had just taken. She turned to face Ranulf, still blushing. "Umm. I think we should probably go back…"

Ranulf looked back and a frown briefly marred his princely face. "We just came off of the one on the right, I believe." He sounded sure of himself, but Ahiru thought she also saw his eyes flicker from the path he'd chosen to the others, as if he was reconsidering. After a moment's hesitation, however, Ranulf took a step toward his chosen path and Ahiru, still rebuking herself, followed suit. She caught up and walked to the left of Ranulf, just a pace behind as if in penance for her idiocy. The path seemed familiar, but they all looked alike. A sapling by the road caught her attention and Ahiru tried to remember if she'd seen it before. She thought she remembered a similar one, but she couldn't be sure. The road wound between the trees now, rather than cutting a straight line through them. Had it curved this much before? Her heart plummeted in her chest when she saw a strikingly white birch set like a vivid sliver of lightning against a series of dark-skinned oaks. Now she knew without a doubt that they were going the wrong way.

She had just opened her mouth to speak, when Ranulf's voice rose out of the silence, casual and unperturbed as ever. "It might surprise you to know that I'd actually prefer a world in which fate does exist."

While nothing about him seemed to change, something in his voice snagged Ahiru's attention as much as his words did. She stumbled slightly as she watched his face. "It must be comforting, knowing one's fate," He continued. "Knowing the result of one's life would be a point of stability. Knowing that, one might merely flow into the dance of life that has been laid out before him, trusting in his fortune to bring him back to his rightful place and for the right reasons." Finally tearing his gaze away from the white birch tree, he glanced at Ahiru. "Besides, I'd like to think that every moment of life has a purpose. -Getting lost here in the woods, for instance. Perhaps this is just one moment in our lives that is nudging us one more step toward something we are meant to do. To gain a better appreciation of nature? To develop better navigation skills? Who knows?" He chuckled to himself and leaned against a tree, evidently having given up for the moment on finding his way back.

Taking a step toward Ranulf, Ahiru murmured, "-But what if the fate laid out for you isn't one that you'd like to take?" She took another step, remembering in a rush the helplessness that she had felt when she realized Princess Tutu's fate as written by Drosselmeyer. Without her realizing it, her voice grew louder, more urgent. "What if… _fate_ decides to make you miserable, even if it's not fair, just to make it a more interesting story? What if-" As Ahiru spoke, a tree root caught her foot and suddenly she was tumbling sideways, umbrella flying as if by magic from her outstretched fingers. Distantly she noted Ranulf once again making his heroic dive to save her and felt genuinely sorry that he had to put up with her inability to stay on her own two feet. A moment later, Ahiru felt a large flat rock send the wind rushing from her lungs as she collided with the forest floor. At the same time, she heard Ranulf emit a sharp gasp.

By the time she had collected her senses and enough air in her lungs to do so, Ahiru noticed Ranulf standing a few feet away, his back to her. His breaths sounded even, but something about the way he held himself inspired a wary feeling in Ahiru. While her instincts warned that she should handle the situation delicately, she found herself rushing toward him, her instincts overruled by her concern. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He was silent. "Ehh –ah- Ranulf… Are you alright…?" She rounded him as she said this and the stone blank expression on his face stopped the words cold in her throat. "Ranulf…?" She called again hesitantly. Then she looked down at his hands.

Angry red lines raced across the backs of his hands where the skin had been broken; the fair skin over his knuckles gleamed wetly with blood. As she stared in horror, a scarlet droplet fell from his loosely clenched hand to the dusty ground, soaking in instantly. When Ranulf tried to catch her, Ahiru must have crushed his hands against the large rock, she realized. Looking up once more at Ranulf's carefully distant expression, she tried to apologize through a throat half constricted by tears of remorse. All that came out were a few garbled syllables before her throat closed up completely.

Ranulf shifted and spoke then, his voice as calm as ever. "Don't worry, Ahiru. It's nothing."

Ahiru refused to believe that. His voice was perfectly even, as if he had never fallen. Nonetheless, Ahiru could see the tension in every line of his body. He refused to meet her eyes as well, staring only into the distance, perhaps at the white birch, alone amongst so many oaks. Biting back tears, Ahiru stepped forward and tore the bottom two inches of her dress away in one long strip. The soft cotton tore easily and Ahiru hoped it was still relatively clean after her fall. Tearing that long strip into two shorter strips with her teeth, Ahiru knelt by Ranulf and held out the first strip, intending to wrap his hand as Mytho had done for her.

At the soft but jarring sound, Ranulf finally looked at Ahiru in confusion, eyeing the cloth strips in her hands. "What are you doing?"A note of wariness crept into his voice.

"I'm trying to help you. If you could just hold out your hand-" as she made her request, she reached out to take one of his hands. At her touch, however, he inexplicably jerked his hand away in one violent motion, stumbling back a step. Looking up at him in surprise, Ahiru caught the expression that flickered on his face for a split second, full of angry resentment. Even when his face resumed its usual placid state, the moment left an indelible mark in her memory. Ahiru stood paralyzed, unsure whether she should turn away or stay or say something… It had been brief, almost so brief as to convince the observer that it had not happened, but Ahiru knew without a doubt that it had. Her mind whirled dizzyingly as she tried to understand what had just happened.

When Ranulf held out his hand, Ahiru stared at it dumbly. "I can…" His voice seemed louder than usual, and he halted for a moment before continuing, "I can do it myself, thank you." Wordlessly, Ahiru handed the first strip of cotton. He stepped back few paces and began to wrap his hand, his face cast in shadow.

Ahiru scolded herself furiously, her breath coming sharply through her nose. Calming herself enough to look at Ranulf again after a few minutes, Ahiru noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He could barely grasp the cloth he was trying to wrap around his left hand and the fabric kept slipping from his hand despite his patient efforts. And yet he continued to try. –In a rush, Ahiru thought of Fakir, recalling a dozen different images and moments: tears were leaking in silver streams down his cheeks in the dark garden at _Schmied_; he was telling her irritatedly that he would never join forces with her; he was swaying, just visible beyond Autor's shoulder, weak without food or water, collapsing a mere moment after she arrived… Fakir always insisted on doing things on his own, showing that he could be strong on his own, pushing others away even when he needed their help so badly…

Ahiru breathed in deeply, feeling understanding growing within her. At the same time, a stern motherly feeling rose inside her, turning into indignation. She made her decision.

"Do you hear that?" She asked quietly, voice level. She squinted into the distance, nostrils flaring lightly. Ranulf looked behind him, listening intently. No sounds pervaded their enclosed path apart from the rustle of the wind in the trees. He turned back to her and shook his head. "What is it?"

Gathering her fallen umbrella against her chest, Ahiru approached him and took him by the elbow. "There's a river this way. We can wash some of the blood off there." She murmured. He hesitated, resisting her as she pulled at his sleeve. At that, she halted and looked back at him, finally catching his eyes and holding them with the fierceness in her own expression. "_Ranulf_. I'm so sorry this happened, but if your hands are hurt, you'll only hurt them more if you keep trying to wrap them yourself. Please, _let me help you_." Her voice was firm, commanding even. Ranulf was silent, staring only at her strangely luminous face, but when Ahiru pulled again at his elbow, he moved without resistance.

As Ahiru led him from the dirt path and into the unmarked woods, Ranulf felt something stir in his chest, a feeling akin to bewilderment. Ordinarily, he never would have allowed anyone to direct him to do anything or command him the way Ahiru was now. And yet, he found himself complying willingly as she pulled him on her own winding path between the trees and bushes. Ranulf listened for the sound of a river again, but he could still hear nothing. Nonetheless, a few minutes later he was sitting by a lively stream while Ahiru washed the blood from his hands and forearms with its cool, clear water.

"I have a friend like you," Ahiru murmured as she returned from the edge of the stream with her hands cupped full of water. She had rolled back his sleeves so the blood and water wouldn't soak into the cuffs. "He always wants to do things on his own, and he doesn't like to rely on anyone. It's like he's afraid that they'll think he can't take care of himself." Pinkish water dripped off Ranulf's elbows and soaked into the ground, leaving his arms wet but clean. Gingerly laying the cloth against his knuckles, Ahiru picked up his hand again and began to smooth the bandage around it. "The thing is, I don't think anyone can survive completely on their own. Sometimes we all need help, and when we need help we shouldn't be afraid to ask for it." She started on Ranulf's other arm. "I don't think you're weak. I'm the one who tripped after all. You didn't do this on your own." Finishing the wrapping, she gradually applied pressure to slow the bleeding. She had learned well from her occasional accidents in Charon's smithy how to tend to wounds like this. When she finally glanced up at Ranulf's face, she met his gaze with a smile. "And you have to admit, when you've injured both hands, it's pretty hard to treat yourself on your own. But that doesn't make you weak. If anything, I think admitting that you need help shows how strong you are." As Ahiru watched, she thought she saw Ranulf's eyes soften and relax. For a moment, Ahiru distinctly remembered her dances with the tormented possessors of Mytho's heart shards, and a similar expression on their faces as they accepted reality and moved on. Inside, she felt a small spark of success and smiled. Perhaps the Princess Tutu inside her had not completely disappeared after all.

All this time, Ranulf watched her work, rendered speechless. He had failed to catch her when she fell (though admittedly, it is hardly custom for a gentleman to have to catch a single damsel in distress with such frequency, so he supposed he should be allowed some slack in that respect.) He had also lost control of his emotions and behaved in a most ungentlemanly manner. He was amazed that she could still treat him so gently, and without fear or pity or condescension. He tried to berate himself for his imbecilic behavior and for nearly losing his calm demeanor over what looked like no more than some bothersome lacerations and bruises, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to feel entirely upset. Releasing his anger, he simply watched Ahiru treat his wounds. Although her tone when she spoke to him was stern, her touch was tender and her movements almost mesmerizing.

When she finished, Ranulf exhaled slowly and looked away at the grass poking between his crossed legs. "I apologize for my behavior, Ahiru. It is… a new experience, receiving help for something like this. Nonetheless, thank you." He said the words slowly, as if they were difficult for him to say, but they were sincere.

Ahiru's eyes became distant, as if recalling something or someone relevant to this situation and nodded to herself almost imperceptibly. More overtly, she then nodded to Ranulf. "I understand," she said, and stood.

Ranulf stood with her automatically, and again felt a sense of bewilderment seep into his feelings of relief. _Ahiru is quite an interesting young woman_, he mused as she informed him that this stream must lead back to town. As they wound their way along the banks, she explained that she could smell the scent of the town being washed downstream. Ranulf had never heard of this method of navigation being put to use by any beings other than dogs before, but Ahiru had successfully found the stream even when he could neither see nor hear it, so he decided to trust her intuition. After nearly forty minutes, the trees thinned, and the two broke out of the forest onto a moderately busy street that ran parallel to the river they had been following. Ranulf watched as Ahiru heaved a huge sigh of relief and laughed, looking back the way they had come. The forest was a dense mass of trees, dappled by the late afternoon sunlight. The stream snaked its way back into the forest and disappeared into the greenness. When Ahiru sighed again, Ranulf's eyes snapped to her face. She had a chagrined expression on her face as she examined the tears in her skirt; a moment later she released the hem from her fingers, apparently dismissing whatever thoughts had been in her head. "I think I should probably just go home now," she said, looking up at the sky. "I'm sure Pique will understand."

Ranulf, speaking for the first time since his apology in the woods, nodded. "-And I've certainly had my walk for today." Ahiru blushed with embarrassment and Ranulf continued, "-But perhaps we'll walk again sometime." This last part he added on an impulse, to assure her that the experience had not been so horrifying that he was unwilling to see her again. Something about her expression made him want to give her assurance.

Still blushing, Ahiru bowed her head to say goodbye and scurried off down the street. As Ranulf watched, she paused in the distance, looked up at the sky, and then opened her umbrella. Even after she disappeared around a bend in the street, Ranulf stayed in the street, studying the last place he'd seen her and the flash of her vivid auburn hair. _She's certainly not without her oddities, _he remarked to himself, flexing his hands and feeling the light sting as his skin pressed against Ahiru's makeshift bandages. Dropping his gaze, Ranulf turned away and began to make his way through the town, back to his own home. A few minutes later, it began to rain, spotting and darkening the cobblestones until they gleamed dimly in the last of the day's sunlight.

…..

When Ahiru finally reached _Schmied_, the rain was coming down tumultuously, rattling the gutters and making musical bell-like noises in the puddles she passed. Careful to hold the umbrella steady against the assault from the roof's runoff, Ahiru quickly unlatched the worn wooden door and slipped inside. She laying her umbrella by the entrance to dry, she allowed herself a moment of pride for having followed her instincts. Inside, she could hear Charon piling wood into the kitchen stove and the dull thud and crackle as the dry wood hit the embers. The scent of fresh bread, tea, and vegetables purchased at that day's market welcomed her into the kitchen.

"Oh, did Fakir find you all right?" Charon asked as Ahiru stepped inside and seated herself at the table. A half-shucked ear of corn lay on a scrap of coarse brown paper, surrounded by fine golden strands of corn silk.

Picking up where Charon had left off, Ahiru looked up at him in confusion. "Fakir? Was he looking for me?" Had her hands not been occupied, she would have exasperatedly smacked her forehead. Of course. He had probably panicked and gone looking for her when she didn't return within a few hours as promised. As Ahiru scolded herself, Charon left the kitchen to store some of the root vegetables in the cellar. Moments later, the front door banged open then closed and Fakir stumbled into the kitchen, dripping water everywhere. Ahiru had guessed correctly. Fakir's wild eyes settled on her as she sat calm and dry at the table with the corn in her hands, and he rolled his eyes.

"Where were you?" He asked irritatedly. "I went to Pique's house, but she kept talking some idiotic nonsense about princes and invited me in for tea and when I finally got to ask if you were there, she just said you never showed up. What happened?" He stood sternly in the doorway, waiting for his answer.

Ahiru blushed, remembering her manifold blunders earlier that day and responded, "Eh… I'm sorry, Fakir. I got lost on my way there… but at least I found my way back." Her hands buried themselves in her dress and she hoped he wouldn't notice the torn edges. She didn't know entirely how she'd explain.

Fakir observed her downcast eyes and sighed again, this time more gently. "Moron. If you don't know your way, just ask me for help next time." Brushing a lock of soaking hair from his eyes, he looked around the kitchen, smelling the delicious aroma. "All the same, Kinkan isn't that complicated a town. How on earth did you manage to get-"

"Oh, Fakir! Good to see that you've arrived. What did I tell you about her intuition?" Charon, returning from the cellar, eyed Fakir's dripping hair and clothing with a smile. He winked again at Ahiru and she couldn't help but giggle as she resumed the shucking of the corn. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a smile flit across Fakir's face, brief as lightning. Then his serious countenance settled back into place; he responded to Charon with a _harrumph,_ and went upstairs to find a spare change of clothes for dinner.

….

A/N: My deepest apologies for the delay with this chapter. Work kicked in a few weeks ago and since then I've barely had a spare moment to think, so I've been cramming all my writing into the weekends and into spare half hours during the week. Apart from that, this chapter really fought against me; I just couldn't get it quite where I wanted it to go. With some wonderful feedback from my more than wonderful sister, however, I managed to wrestle it into submission. Good news is, the next chapter is already partially written (I decided to move it until after this one, where it made more logical sense) so hopefully the delay on that one will not be quite as long.

A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed and also to those who have recently added me to their Story Alerts. It's a great feeling knowing that readers are still enjoying the story.

This week, I'd like to deviate from my usual "Please leave a review *mumble*evenifyouthinkit'*mumble*" (although general reviews are obviously welcome) and I'd like to ask instead: _What do you think of Ranulf?_ Who do you think he is? What do you think of him as a person/character? Is he a Marty Stu? –His character is in the wet clay stage right now, and I'd like to get your feedback on him before I fire him in my literary kiln, if you will. ;)

Once again, thanks for reading!

-MYH

EDIT: I changed the scene in which Ranulf reacts to his injuries in the hopes of making his behavior more consistent with his character. It seems to work better to me than before. Much thanks for the helpful comments from !


	11. Unspoken Thoughts

The Heart Within

By

Ming-Yue-Huo

Chapter Eleven: Unspoken Thoughts

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu.

…..

She was radiant, arms raised to the heavens, which welcomed her with brilliantly glowing lights. Stars in her eyes, she spun toward the earth, nearly touching it, but at the last moment springing upward and then into a pirouette. As she spun, the tulle of her full tutu whispered and the edges of her sleeves fluttered. Finally, she spread her arms outward, her raised leg extending backward and solidly pressing into the gleaming wooden floor before she slowly, leisurely raised herself up into the elegant pose of a grand battement à la seconde, one leg unfolding, lifting, pointing ever upward toward the sky.

Ahiru had to admit this daydream was perhaps asking a little too much of even three months' hard training with the ferocious Pique. As Ahiru held her position, legs quivering, a light breeze casually rolled by and toppled her to the ground behind Charon's house. This grassy area had become her haven for practice and quiet imaginings in the past few months. Sitting up briskly, Ahiru pushed herself back to her feet and returned from her daydreaming to the more basic exercises that Pique had instructed her to remember for their next class. Settling into first position, Ahiru examined herself, checking each element of the pose; her upright posture, rounded arms, relaxation and tension in the right places, and her raised chin, just as Pique had said.

Moving to second position, then to second, to third, to fourth and finally to fifth, Ahiru lowered her arms and began to perform a series of petit battements. Bending her supporting leg at the knee each time she brought her working foot toward it, then straightening each, Ahiru extended her foot to her front, à la quatrième, back to her bent supporting leg, then out to the side, à la seconde, back in, then out behind her, à la quatrième derrière. This repetition of movement, of pulling inward and extending outward reminded Ahiru of the way flowers bloomed and died each year, unfurling their petals proudly outward, then curling in upon themselves to slumber until they could joyfully stretch out in the sunlight again every spring. Ahiru slowed, performing the exercise as if she were one such flower, petals curled tightly closed, waiting hopefully for that first warm breeze of spring. Front, side, back, front, side, back…

When Ahiru's leg extended behind her, still feeling the sun on her closed eyelids, she felt that pull –the pull to follow the movement, to extend to her fullest, into a full arabesque. Breathing in the warmth, Ahiru gave in to the urge and pushed outward and upward until it seemed as if the sun itself was her partner, supporting and embracing her. She was the luckiest flower in the world, the only one ever to have danced in the arms of the sun.

And then suddenly the ground rose up to catch her, the dewy grass just barely cushioning her. Ahiru greeted it with a far less gracious "Eeep!" of surprise, falling gracelessly forward onto her face. Resurfacing in reality, Ahiru rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the pale pink and gold sky, watching the sun rise over Kinkan. Although it was only early morning, Ahiru could already feel the promise of the day's heat pressing closely against her skin like a kiss. She sighed, and pushed herself back to her feet, wanting to practice a little more before she had to leave for her first class of the day.

On the upper floor of the house, Fakir leaned his head back against the upstairs hallway window, arms crossed leisurely, studying the focused expression on her face and the easy way she moved through the exercises. In her strength, elegance, and spirit, he could already see the incredible progress she was making. Her dancing wasn't quite beautiful, not yet; but something about her earnest expression and the way she performed each exercise tugged at something in his chest, a strange and unidentifiable feeling somewhere between fondness and anxiety and confusion. Fakir found himself wondering when it was that Ahiru had so greatly changed and how he had missed it until now. From the unfocused, sometimes-shy girl she had been, she had begun to solidify into a young woman whose every action bespoke the optimism and compassion (and sheer stubbornness) of her character. Sometimes, watching her dance, Fakir experienced the vaguely hair-raising feeling of having walked into a familiar room in which some undetectably small details have been changed, leaving the room with a distinctly different atmosphere.

Ahiru's rapid development fostered a growing feeling of unease in him. When a flower grows, it must have sunlight and water and soil, but most of all, space to grow. What would Ahiru do when she completed her schooling at Kinkan Academy? The Academy was reputed for producing some of the world's most impressive dancers, many of whom went on to perform in productions around the world, or to open their own ballet schools to pass on the academy's legacy. When Fakir tried to imagine Ahiru choosing any of those paths, he saw only blankness. Somewhere in his logic, he dimly registered the fact that he could not keep her here with him for the rest of their lives; in spite of his promise, that wasn't how things worked between humans. The folly of humans, he supposed, was to insist that they had some purpose to serve, or search until they found their purpose. Fakir did not exclude himself from his particular cynicism. He too felt that he had a purpose to serve, and to serve it, he woke early every morning to write the story of Kinkan town as it drifted placidly from one day to the next. The more Ahiru grew into a young woman, the more Fakir realized that as perfectly as she had slipped back into his and everyone else's lives, her own purpose in Kinkan was unclear. She was a piece of a different puzzle altogether, and now that Fakir had brought her back as a human he was scrambling to predict where she might fit into the enormous puzzle that was the human world. In his figuring, however, Fakir never once considered returning Ahiru to her duck form. At this point, reversing what he had done was unthinkable.

Reversing what he had done. That was another point of uncertainty, wasn't it? Fakir had written Ahiru's story to turn her back into a human. Although his powers had manifested themselves in quite an unexpected manner, by some miracle he hadn't killed Ahiru with his efforts. Even months afterward, as he watched Ahiru leap and twirl through the passing days, Fakir was left with the wary feeling that something had been set in motion. Some aspect of his world, like the inconspicuous details of the imaginary room, had also shifted and Fakir found himself holding his breath at odd moments, waiting for the first signs to appear. Though Fakir was more a man of logic than of intuition, he still couldn't shake away the feeling that sooner or later something would happen. Every action has consequences…

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye disturbed Fakir's thoughts. As he looked down at the yard, Ahiru jumped and abruptly ran from the clearing. Alarmed, Fakir pressed his face to the window to see if there was anything in the clearing that might have startled her. In the silence, however, he faintly detected the chiming melody of Kinkan Academy's clock and realized that Ahiru was merely rushing to class.

Fakir expelled an exasperated sigh, massaging his brow with his hand. It was such a characteristic thing for her to do, arriving late to class because she was too busy doing exactly what she would be doing when she got there. In spite of himself, Fakir couldn't maintain his exasperation when Ahiru came bolting upstairs to her room, not seeing Fakir as she passed him in her haste. After a moment, Fakir's shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter. I should make sure the moron eats something before she runs off and keels over from hunger in the middle of her lessons, Fakir thought as he quietly descended the stairs.

The kitchen gleamed cleanly in the sunlight that dappled its floor and cabinets, smelling of lemon oil and tea leaves. Fakir made his way toward the kitchen counter where he pulled out two slices of bread and began smearing homemade strawberry jam over them generously. He had just pressed the two slices together when he heard Ahiru thundering down the stairs. Sandwich in hand, he stood in the doorway joining the kitchen to the entrance hall and waited. Ahiru appeared moments later, strands of auburn hair already pulling free from her braid, a school bag slung over her shoulder. Carried forward by her momentum, Ahiru again crashed awkwardly into Fakir who had already braced himself for this.

Ahiru backed away marginally, peering up indignantly into his face. "Ah-! What are you doing Fakir? I have to get to cla-"

He timed it perfectly, right as her lips parted to form the word. As if in slow motion, Fakir moved forward with perfect precision and took his opportunity.

Blinking in surprise, Ahiru eyed the sandwich protruding unceremoniously from her mouth. Fakir could see the softening in her eyes as the sweetness of the jam hit her tongue and she remembered how hungry she was. He did his best not to laugh as Ahiru struggled between indignation and gratitude. He saved her the trouble of deciding by finally stepping out of the way and gently ushering her past him, saying "You'd better hurry. Don't let all your practicing go to waste."

Ahiru glanced at him strangely before she marched out with a light "Humph!", munching hungrily at her sandwich. Fakir watched the door for several moments after she disappeared, a smile still on his face. Perhaps he could have been nicer about it, but her expression of surprise had been too endearing for him to resist. As the simple silence and the sparse cleanliness of the kitchen set in around him, however, Fakir felt the creeping return of his earlier thoughts. Turning abruptly, Fakir looked about him for something, anything to occupy himself. Seeing Charon's grocery list on the counter by the bread box, Fakir tucked it into the inner pocket of his shirt.

…

Kinkan town always seemed flat at this time of day, the sun almost directly overhead. It seemed as if the shops and houses blended one into another. Today, however, the air had taken on a pale blue cast from the humidity so the lines between the buildings became even hazier. The town assumed a hauntingly dreamlike atmosphere as Fakir wound between the buildings. Calmly navigating this labyrinth, Fakir made his way to the grocery store where he and Charon usually purchased their dry goods. The market selling fruits and vegetables wouldn't open until that weekend, but at least Fakir could collect some of the items on Charon's list, for lack of a better thing to do.

Reaching the town square, Fakir observed the way the damp air seemed to mute the colors and sounds of the townspeople's activities. Café patrons sat languidly at their outdoor tables, picking lightly at their food and conversing in hushed tones as they fanned themselves with their napkins. Some store owners sat outside on their shop steps, amiably greeting the customers who perused their stores lengthily, more interested in escaping the sun than in making any purchases. Fakir's dark hair soaked up the sunlight and sent tingling shivers from his scalp down his spine, but he was glad to have some kind of distraction for now. It was better not to think about matters that he couldn't resolve at the moment. For now, his concern lay in the store which sat directly across the square, situated in the relative shade of a large oak tree. On his way, Fakir glanced at the fountain on which he and Ahiru had sat together, slowing for a second before he looked back at the shop and resumed his usual quick pace.

The store was teeming with customers today, all clamoring to call out their orders to the harried and sweating shop boys who rushed back and forth, pushing bags of flour and spices and imported sweets and root vegetables across the shop counter. Fakir took a deep breath and waited at the back of the store in a less crowded corner, waiting for the afternoon rush to abate. No one spared him a glance, and several people jostled him in their rush toward the front counter. Fakir leaned against the wall and observed the crowd. Not a single person knew who he was; his name, his face, his strengths, weaknesses, his desires. And yet he was the one to whom they owed their blissfully tranquil lives. He knew almost every person, from one story he'd written or another.

Scanning the crowd, Fakir recognized one man with copper-colored hair and earnest blue eyes. The man stood a few feet away, clutching his shopping list, eyeing it periodically so he could shout out his order from memory when a shop boy became available. This man had always dreamed of opening his own tea shop in town and had finally done so last spring, thanks to a mysterious benefactor who never gave his name or asked for anything in return. This man woke early every morning to clean his counters and sweep loose tea from the floors, and always poured two cups of his favorite oolong just before he opened his shop for the day; the first cup he poured for himself, the second in honor of his mysterious benefactor. As Fakir watched, an elderly woman nearby stumbled slightly and knocked the list from the man's hand. This woman too had appeared in his stories: after losing her first two sons early in life, one to sickness, the other to a war that only she seemed to remember, she had given up hope of ever having children again. Two years ago, however, she discovered a young homeless boy sleeping on her doorstep, a boy whose love of music had kept the light in his eyes even through the hardest of his nights. She took him in with open arms, gave him the nurturing love that he had always longed for in a mother. In the evenings when the air drifted warm and sweet through the open window, he played the beautifully-crafted wooden flute that she had given him. This music he played with love, for her and for those who gathered, enchanted by his lilting melodies, in the street below. Fakir had seen the boy once or twice at Kinkan Academy, a smile bright on his face.

Fakir didn't intentionally weave such happy resolutions. As he had once told Ahiru, he merely allowed the stories to spin themselves. However, as the stories flowed from his fingers, Fakir began to suspect that his will to allow the people of Kinkan Town the freedom to make their destinies was still somewhat influenced by his desire to make them happy as well. As he gazed from face to face, he felt a tenuous, but still present connection to them. He had seen their moments of delight and of sadness, and willed their dreams to come true, and in some cases, had done so. Even if he couldn't share in their happiness, he felt a strange protectiveness over the townspeople.

"Oh you didn't hear?" A middle-aged woman's voice filtered out of the crowd, catching Fakir's attention. This woman, Willa, had recently rediscovered her love of ceramic art and was now pursuing a career as a vendor of innovative household baubles. Fakir himself had purchased a delicate blue-streaked flower vase from her at Ahiru's behest. When the ceramic artist spoke, her voice was slightly hushed, in spite of the noisy crowd. The strangeness of this struck Fakir and he leaned forward, straining to hear.

"No, I didn't." Another woman some years younger, named Eloise, responded. Eloise had a few months ago received a love letter from her childhood sweetheart. The two were to be married next week. Her voice, more timid than Willa's, registered fear as she spoke. "What happened?"

Willa shook her head, eyes still roving around the front of the store for an unoccupied shop boy. "I suppose I'm not surprised that you didn't, considering how recent it was. Just last night it happened, and –AH!" Willa paused in her story and breathed in, preparing to holler her order at a shop boy, but stopped and exhaled in frustration when she saw him scurry away to fill the tea shop owner's order. Sighing and shrugging, Willa returned her attention to her story. "Last night, they say a boy down the street disappeared."

Fakir leaned even further forward as Eloise responded, "You mean… he just… vanished?"

Willa's laugh at that was loud and boisterous, but when she replied her voice was hushed again. "No, no. His mother said she tucked him into his bed, kissed him goodnight, and closed the door. The next morning, all she knew was that her son's bedroom window was open and he was gone, and on top of that she had to clean up all those feathers the birds left…"

Fakir felt as if time stopped for a moment, and in that moment, only his heart moved, sounding thunderously in his ears.

"Birds?" Eloise repeated, as if she had heard Willa incorrectly. Fakir hoped she had.

"Birds," Willa confirmed, shaking her head again sadly. "Crows or ravens most likely, judging from the feathers all over the place. Supposedly some of them came into his room to play some time after the boy disappeared. They probably thought it was a cozy new nesting place."

"I heard…" Eloise started hesitantly, and Fakir had to listen carefully to hear, "I heard there was a large outbreak of ravens some years ago. I was still out in the country with my family and my beloved Lucien back then, so I only heard the stories…"

"-So what? You think the boy was taken by the ravens?" Willa laughed. "There's no way even an entire flock of birds could lift an entire ten year old boy. A baby, perhaps, but not a ten year old boy!"

A corner of Fakir's mouth twitched at that comment.

"I did notice several ravens on the wash lines this morning," Eloise began, but Willa interrupted her with another laugh, a teasing note in her voice.

"Oh, I'm sure you did." Willa's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now that I think of it, there was a raven outside my window too. It cawed at me and asked if I had any children for it to eat." She sighed loudly, and she pushed her way forward into a gap left by a departing customer, dragging Eloise with her. Looking back at Eloise's worried face, Willa jovially called out, "Oh don't be such a worrier, Ellie. Chances are the boy just climbed out of his window looking for some adventure. I'm sure he'll be back by nightfa- Two pounds of sugar, three pounds of flour…!" She finally caught a shop boy's attention, and forgot about Eloise's concerns, shouting amongst the crowd. The shouting was unnecessary, however, as the crowd had finally begun to thin and form into some semblance of a civilized line.

Fakir finally stepped forward to claim a place in the crude flow of customers to the shop counter. His mind was so abuzz with thought that he barely noticed when Willa bustled by, her arms brimming with her hard-won groceries. A missing child… his window was open… feathers in his room… Fakir held the puzzle pieces in his mind, unwilling to put them together, and already knowing the picture they would create when fitted together.

Fakir tried to remember the stories he'd written this week. He hadn't written about any ravens, had he? And certainly not any about the abduction of a small child by ravens; he was absolutely certain he would recall having written something like that. Although even he had seen a few ravens in town a few days ago…

Shrugging off that thought, Fakir realized that the line had moved forward and he hastily stepped in to fill the gap. Perhaps not all stories within the town surfaced on the pages of Fakir's writing, but he was certain that an event like this would have appeared, had it happened. Perhaps Willa was right; the boy was probably just out seeking adventure. Fakir himself could recall a night or two, years and years ago, when he snuck through his window with Mytho and lay back on the roof to watch the stars and whisper stories about princes and knights and dragons. Fakir hadn't been far away from his bed, but he experienced a small but exhilarating sense of liberation in disobeying the rules, even if it was just a little bit. Yes, that's probably just it, Fakir thought, shaking his head at his own paranoia. The boy will probably be back by nightfall.

…

After depositing his groceries at Schmied and perfunctorily bidding goodbye to Charon, Fakir made his way toward Kinkan Academy to teach his afternoon classes.

Shortly after Rue was appointed headmistress of Kinkan's ballet division she had come to him with an offer; he could teach part-time, an intermediate class here and there, act as a stand-in when other teachers were sick... Fakir never questioned why Rue had so suddenly come to him, although he suspected that Mytho had suggested it to her. Fakir never liked to think the entire thought, but distantly he was aware; Mytho and Rue pitied him. They knew he had to take care of Ahiru and write the story of Kinkan Town. While his role in keeping the town peaceful and happy was of utmost importance, his role within society was different. Had anyone taken an interest in him, Fakir would have appeared to them as an unpublished writer still living with his adopted father, with a pet duck as his sole companion. He had no job, no money to support himself, and to all appearances, no ambition. Thus, Rue simply offered him the job, and he simply accepted. Neither acknowledged the thoughts suspended in the air between them as they shook hands in agreement.

With money finally coming in, Fakir offered to pay for his living expenses, but Charon had adamantly refused.

_"Save it, my son." Charon chuckled as he delivered a forkful of roasted potato into his mouth, ignoring Fakir's confused expression as if to demonstrate his resolve. "You may find a use for it someday."_

And now Fakir found himself on his way to teach yet another class. It had only been about a year since he had begun teaching classes, and yet his memories of them had already begun to run together, like a single hazy daydream of scrambled piano recordings and sudden movements and warm stale air. The lessons weren't difficult, but they weren't... they didn't... Fakir couldn't gather the words to describe them. He merely arrived, taught his students, and left. They were a fact of his life, not something to like, dislike, or reason with. The ground beneath him nodded against his feet in sternly tacit agreement.

When he arrived, standing before the door of the classroom, Fakir steeled himself. Carefully, he molded his face into an expression resembling cast iron and turned the door knob. The door knob spun easily with a metal click and Fakir allowed himself into the classroom. Though he could see his students out of the corner of his eye, he wordlessly walked across the floor to the piano and opened a panel in the front to insert a music roll. Only when he straightened, having attached the roll to the take-up spool, did he acknowledge the youths standing at their center of the classroom.

The students, rapt with attention, stood at their assigned places (excepting the four boys in the class, who had somehow ended up at the back of the classroom) along the lines that had been marked on the floor years ago and worn to ancient smudges by years of use. The students' school-issued dance uniforms formed three neat rows, and each of the girls had dutifully tied back her hair neatly with identical hair bands. Had he not sworn to himself to leave his emotions at the door, a sardonic smile might have touched the corner of his mouth; his instructions for the beginning of the class were always the same. A few simple exercises to warm up their muscles, some stretching, and then examinations of form, movement, grace, timing... This the students all knew, and yet they waited dutifully for Fakir to arrive before they began their lessons, as if they were dolls in a coin machine and he was the coin that sparked the sudden rush of sound and movement. He could almost feel his students' eyes grazing his face, waiting for his instructions.

After a moment, Fakir lightly shook himself. That kind of cynicism was uncalled for. Perhaps he was merely distracted by the conversation he had heard earlier. He allowed himself a curt smile and focused his attention on the faces of the girls who stood awaiting his instruction.

"Fakir-sensei?" one of the girls asked, and the others looked at her in surprise. Fakir looked at her as well, lightly scanning her blue eyes and fine blonde hair. Not a single glossy wisp strayed from her elegant bun, so tightly had she pulled back her hair. Her name was Amelie, Fakir recalled.

"Yes, Amelie?" he responded, keeping his voice level. The others tittered to one another in the background at this and although he cold not imagine why they did, Fakir ignored them. After a pause, he repeated, "Amelie?"

Amelie looked around at her fellow students and then back at Fakir. "We're ready to begin class, sir."

Restraining himself from remarking upon the pointlessness of her statement, Fakir nodded to her and turned to the piano. Pushing the hand lever, he began to instruct the class.

Time moved slowly, and yet Fakir found that at the end of the class, he could only recall a few scattered incidents. A few girls, for some reason, arched their backs to such an extreme that their poses resembled some of the dancers in the apprentice class -Ahiru for example, at least when he had first known her. However, when he had come to individually correct them as he might have with Ahiru, they blushed and stumbled. This somehow inspired another rush of chitters in the background. Another time, as he had approached, one of the girls, Helen, had looked back at him and lost her focus, toppling to the ground in the middle of the class. Fakir helped her to her feet, but when he asked her if she was alright, she could only gaze up at him, wide-eyed and speechless. Fakir, instinctively recalling a similarly tearful expression on Ahiru's face, had rushed to find something to say and ended up haltingly recounting the tale of a famous dancer who fell in the middle of a performance and, picking herself up, laughed merrily through the rest of her performance. There had been no such famous dancer; only Ahiru could laugh so gaily after tripping over her own foot like that. As for the four boys, they had all but faded from his attention during class; they didn't stand rapt with attention as the girls did, but they followed his instructions willingly and didn't fidget when he tried to correct them. Perhaps Peter had lost his focus once or twice whilst gazing in Amelie's direction, but instructing the boys was still far easier. The rest of the class had merely blended into the background while his mind cleared and lent itself purely to the movements of his body as he demonstrated each new step and exercise.

When the class ended, the students shuffled quietly out of the classroom and Fakir found himself alone with his own thoughts once again. Sunlight filtered in slender stripes across the worn classroom floor, the sun already low on the horizon. Now was the time in which he was permitted to use the classroom to practice on his own. Fakir had already set aside a player piano roll for himself, a fiercely energetic piece that he knew well. He had danced to this piece once when he had been alone, and, discovering its surprisingly cathartic powers, often danced to it whenever he found his mind filled with concerns. Today, however, when Fakir picked up the roll box and heard the roll inside rattle heavily within, he felt none of the anticipation that he expected he would. He didn't feel like dancing. He didn't feel like thinking anymore. He just wanted to walk home and prepare dinner and wait for Ahiru to come home so he could tease her about something and see the flush come into her cheeks as she indignantly justified whatever she had been doing.

_Ahiru. Perhaps she's still waiting for Rue's private practice to end…_

Fakir lay the box on the piano hurriedly and grabbed his spare bag of clothes to change.

…

Comfortably arrayed in a slightly worn cotton shirt and a black pair of pants, Fakir stepped outside into the cooling air. Rubbing a sleeve against the sweat drop he felt rolling down the side of his neck, he began to walk, following a path that sloped down to the fountain that sat at the center of the campus, spouting thick jets of water into its wide stone basin. Just beyond the fountain, Fakir spotted Ahiru. She didn't see him right away, but Fakir didn't mind. The fading light played softly on the errant wisps of hair that blew about her smiling face. A blue cotton sundress accented the warmth of her skin and fluttered about her knees when a breeze rolled by. Had she been wearing that when she'd left for her classes this morning? Fakir tried to remember, but could only recall the way her eyes had lit up when he'd stuck the jam sandwich in her mouth.

As Fakir watched, Ahiru smiled and laughed, and Fakir forgot about remembering. His feet merely continued moving of their own accord while he thought out his greeting. Then he spotted the two other people talking to Ahiru. One, he had met in passing: Ahiru's private instructor, Pique. Currently the violet-haired instructor had a subtly coquettish look on her face, hips tilted ever so slightly. As he watched, she delicately brushed away a clump of hair hanging by the side of her face. The other was a young man with fine gold-blonde hair who stood facing Ahiru, chatting amiably with a smile on his own face. None of them seemed to notice Fakir's approach.

Stopping abruptly, Fakir finally felt the growing chill in the air. Immobile, he studied the young man who now appeared to be reluctantly showing Ahiru something on the back of his hand. The young man's wavy hair just barely grazed the tips of his ears, curling elegantly at its flaxen ends. With a moderate build, he carried himself comfortably, wearing his neatly pressed Kinkan Academy uniform as naturally as if he had been a student there for years. Dropping his hand, he chuckled and shrugged at a comment of Ahiru's, a book bag bouncing lightly against his hip as he did so. Beside him, Pique giggled and remarked upon something. Ahiru's face grew sheepish and she looked away to hide her flushing of her cheeks.

Suddenly, Ahiru's eyes brightened, a smile alighting on her face. She had finally noticed Fakir. Calling his name, she waved excitedly, knowing that he had seen her as well. Even from far away, something about her delighted smile brought a chuckle to his lips. He managed a smile of his own, waving back at Ahiru, though not as vehemently.

For a moment, Ahiru looked away as the young man leaned close to ask a question. When Ahiru responded, she continued to look in Fakir's direction and, although her words were inaudible at this distance, Fakir was almost certain that she was talking about him. Finishing her thought, Ahiru called out even more loudly, "Fakir!" waving to him again. Beside her, Pique broke away from her conversation with the young man and joined in the call, shrilling Fakir's name as well. Their voices echoed across the empty campus in discordant unison.

Fakir could see the invitation in Ahiru's eyes, but acutely aware of the young man beside her, he felt something clench in his stomach as he stepped toward them. "Ahiru," he called out simply as he approached, studying the blond-haired student warily out of the corner of his eye. He seemed friendly enough. Pique merely smiled that coquettish smile of hers as she stood beside him, watching Fakir as he drew nearer.

Despite his tepid greeting, Ahiru's smile widened. "Fakir! How were your classes today?" She seemed to have completely forgotten her blond-haired friend, who stood politely at a distance, waiting for an introduction. Fakir found that he was perfectly fine with that.

Focusing his attention solely on Ahiru, Fakir replied, "Well enough. Yours?"

Still oblivious, Ahiru shrugged with an expression of chagrin. "Pique says I'm making good progress. It's tough sometimes…" she seemed to hesitate, grimacing almost imperceptibly before continuing, "But it feels wonderful to dance again." _After so many years of doing nothing._ Those were the unspoken thoughts in her voice that Fakir sensed were meant for only him to understand. Yet, in spite of that tinge of regret, in her eyes and her smile he recognized the same warmth he'd glimpsed increasingly often in the past few months. Fascinated, Fakir felt a smile surfacing on his own lips when suddenly he remembered Ahiru's friends, who had been standing silently for several seconds without acknowledgement. The unpleasant feeling twinged in his stomach again, but he realized that if he ignored them any longer it would become undeniably rude. Sighing inwardly, Fakir turned from Ahiru to the young man, who had been studying the unique craftsmanship of the stone fountain as he waited. Pique still said nothing, watching attentively.

"So, Ahiru... Who is your friend here?" Fakir inquired loudly enough that the friend in question would hear and have time to compose himself. Ahiru's smile disappeared in a flash as the realization finally came crashing down upon her that she had forgotten to introduce him. Fakir bemusedly watched the blush spread across her cheeks and tried to ignore the tightness in his stomach as the young man stepped closer, smiling courteously at Ahiru.

"EH- um! I'm sorry! Fakir, this is Ranulf," Ahiru gestured toward Ranulf who politely nodded his greeting to Fakir. "He's a literature student at Kinkan Academy. Ranulf, Fakir. Fakir writes stories too," she added in a panicked effort to find a connection between them.

_Ironic, that that is how she chooses to identify me…_ He thought as he forced a smile and shook Ranulf's extended hand. "What kind of literature do you study?" Fakir asked, firmly meeting Ranulf's green eyes with his own. Ranulf did not look away.

Shrugging, Ranulf responded, "Historical literature, mostly. It's amazing what one can learn from the past." He studied Fakir, his eyes lingering briefly on Fakir's hand as he let go.

Distantly, Fakir realized that Ranulf must have noticed his old scar, the one he had given himself years ago when he had stabbed his own hand with a pen to stop himself from writing Ahiru's death in the Lake of Despair. The skin had healed, leaving a pale scar, but beneath the surface of the skin faintly remained some of the ink that had been on the pen when he stabbed himself. The scar did sometimes earn Fakir some strange looks.

After a moment, Ranulf inquired, "And what kind of writing do you do?" To his side, Pique and Ahiru's attention shifted to Fakir as they waited on his answer.

"Nonfiction," Fakir responded with a hint of irony, catching Ahiru's eye. Satisfied when he saw a smile touch her lips for a brief moment, his attention flickered back to Ranulf who was nodding in polite approval.

"Ah, that can be difficult. I commend you on your choice, however." Ranulf remarked. Silence settled into place after their paltry exchange. Ahiru looked around her, apparently searching for something to comment upon to leaven the emptiness.

At this point, Pique cut in, having kept silent long enough for her satisfaction. Being a natural gossip at heart, the content of her conversation involved a great deal of speculation and a small dose of scandal. Fakir remained attentive long enough to hear something about an affluent business man moving into a long-abandoned estate somewhere in Kinkan before his mind drifted elsewhere, tuning out Pique's chattering. Looking overhead at the fading light, he realized that Charon must be expecting him and Ahiru at home soon.

Clearing his throat quietly, Fakir said brusquely, "It's getting late. I should go home." He nodded to the three of them, his eyes meeting Ahiru's briefly as he raised his head. Then he turned and made his way from the fountain to the mouth of the campus. He made certain not to look back until he made a left turn onto the path that led toward the entrance of the academy and he could sneak a glance out of the corner of his eye. Ahiru was idly chatting with Pique and Ranulf, but her smile seemed somehow more subdued. Fakir wasn't sure, but he thought at one point that she might have turned to watch him go for just a moment.

His mind was a blank as he exited the campus, treading between the shadowy houses and shops and bakeries, over bridges and beneath walkways to the other end of town. The air cooled quickly against Fakir's skin. As he walked, he heard only the pounding of his feet against stone, and the steady beat of his heart in his ears. The rhythm lulled him into a trance like state, broken only when Fakir slowed and halted at the peak of a small bridge that spanned one of the many rivers that ran through the town.

Leaning casually against the rough stone of the bridge, Fakir peered down at the water. Distantly his reflection looked back up at him, dark brows furrowed in thought. Sighing, Fakir closed his eyes and allowed himself to think, something that seemed to have become an increasingly harrowing pastime of late. Much to his surprise, it was not Pique's story about the bird attack from earlier, or the disappearance of the young boy, that wormed its way into his thoughts. Rather, he found himself remembering the face of the blond-haired young man who had been talking to Pique and Ahiru. _Ranulf. That was his name,_ Fakir recalled. As he stared down at the water, Fakir studied his memory of the young man's face, all refined gold and noble arches. No, that wasn't what bothered him about the young man; plenty of noble-looking young men lived in Kinkan Town; Fakir had never felt particularly compelled to take much notice of them. -But this Ranulf…

It was his eyes. The way they caught the late afternoon sunlight and lit up like bright peridot gems… The way their corners drew upward in an intrigued smile as they gazed at Ahiru… Ahiru…

_Ah. So that's it._

Fakir released Ranulf's face from his mind and gazed down at his own refection again. His own dark eyes were hardly visible to him, caught in the shadow of his own perplexed brow. His jet black hair hung about his face, casting it further into darkness. He was the shadow of Kinkan Town, the one character meant to belong but never to be noticed. He could never rise above that; it was his life mission to write the story of the town and take no credit, an unending, unrewarding task he had agreed to take on. However, a year ago, he might have contentedly envisioned his future as a half-filled ink pot, pages drying on the windowsill in the sun, and his ink-stained fingers ruffling the soft downy feathers on Ahiru's head as she waddled from page to page, examining the loops and jumps in his handwriting. What he never could have anticipated was that Ahiru might move beyond that circle of obscurity. That she might no longer need him. That she might fall in love.

Not to say that she had fallen in love. To all appearances, she remained indifferent thus far to the green-eyed, fair-haired Ranulf. However, the young man's subtle attentiveness to her every word and the way his eyes locked upon her face when she spoke… Albeit he concealed his feelings better than Peter from the intermediate class, but Fakir couldn't help but catch these lightning-quick changes in Ranulf's expression. Perhaps Ranulf made a polite effort to listen and respond to both Pique and Ahiru, but Pique's remarks never drew such smiles from the blond-haired young man.

Fakir felt like slapping his forehead with his palm, but resisted the urge. He should have known this would happen all along. Expected it, really. Ahiru must be around seventeen years of age now. She had grown in the time she'd spent as a duck, and now as a human she was beginning to grow in spirit as well. It was impossible to miss that light that shone in her eyes when she practiced her dancing in the back yard, or when she greeted him in the morning, or joyfully threw open the windows during the rain to hair the musical pattering of each droplet against the street below.

_I can't be the only who sees that in her…_

Suddenly, imagining the way Ahiru's blue sundress fluttered about her lithe body and the way her eyes lit up with delight as she spotted him, his breath caught in his throat. She had something now that he hadn't noticed before, or perhaps which he had never allowed himself to see. Something that was undeniably beautiful.

Fakir rubbed his eyes furiously with one hand. Despising his own shock, he focused on his frustration instead, allowing it to overwhelm him. After a long moment, he breathed out and released it all to the river below, imagining that the waters carried those feelings far away. As he did so, he made a resolution.

_I made Ahiru a promise. I said I would stay with her and that I would be true to myself. Now that she's human, that hasn't changed. I will be true to myself and I will stay with her, at least… as long as she needs me._

Fakir turned away from the water below, still feeling slight unease at the back of his mind, but knowing that this was the best he could do for now.

By the time Ahiru turned the corner to cross the bridge, the sky had faded to a dusky pink color, casting the streets in warm shades of rose. She seemed distracted and didn't notice Fakir until she had stepped onto the bridge and was a mere few feet away.

"Ahiru," he murmured, watching her as she drew nearer. The sound of his voice snapped her from her reverie and she looked up in delight and surprise.

"Fakir? But… Why aren't you already back at Charon's house?"

Fakir shrugged, looking down at the long rosy river that wound beneath them. "Ah, no reason, I guess. I thought I'd walk with you back home." He curiously noted the flicker in Ahiru's eyes when he said home.

"But didn't you and Rue say that we should each walk home separately?" Ahiru's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Fakir hesitated for a moment, almost surprised that Ahiru had taken the matter so seriously.

His and Rue's intention had only been to keep Ahiru free of the judgment that might come with the knowledge that Ahiru was living with him. Vaguely he wondered if she knew why and if he was patronizing her for wondering about that in the first place. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and Fakir found himself studying the thick eyelashes, the tirelessly hopeful expression, the guileless ocean-like depths. Her eyes had been one of the few things which had hardly changed since she had last been human. They still held the same naïveté and innocence that they always had. Perhaps because of what he saw in her eyes as she gazed up at him, Fakir felt a surge of protectiveness run through him.

_I will stay with her..._

After a moment, it dawned on Fakir that Ahiru had come alone."Ahiru? Where's Rue?"

Ahiru looked behind her as if to indicate Rue's location. "She finished practicing, but she said that Mytho had asked her to stay, so she asked if I'd be all right walking home on my own."

_As long as she needs me..._

Fakir gazed down the street in the general direction of Kinkan Academy. How coincidental. Shaking off his quiet inner thoughts, he returned his attention to Ahiru, feeling the last traces of his stony expression finally fading away.

_I will be true to myself..._

"Well, it probably won't matter if I walk you home once or twice then." Fakir stepped away from the wall of the bridge, gesturing toward home.

Ahiru's face finally broke into a smile and she took Fakir's outstretched hand, though he hadn't meant for her to take it. "Let's go home then," she said.

...

A/N:

Sorry once again for the very late update. This chapter was interesting to write, but also a little challenging. I take some inspiration from George R.R. Martin's writing here -in fact, I was reading Clash of Kings when it occurred to me that up until now, we've mostly seen Ahiru's point of view in this story, and what she notices and thinks doesn't always cover what's happening in the lives of the other characters in the story. Thus, we got a little glimpse into the world through Fakir's eyes.

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed that. Chapter 12 is on the way (slowly, thanks to college packing) but it's coming. It'll be a little bit of fun before we start to delve into the more serious stuff.

Until the next,

-MYH


	12. And in Return

The Heart Within

By

Ming-Yue-Huo

Chapter Twelve: And in Return...

A/N: I'm baaaack! Before we recommence, I want to point out that I've slightly revised some of Chapter 4, "Broken Promises" (including some additions to dialogue, reordering of events, etc.) It is not imperative that any of you go back and read it again, but it may yield some more insight into this mysterious "voice" character, if you feel inclined to delve deeper. :) In reading that chapter, I also find myself humorously reminded of The Godfather, which I saw long after I had written that chapter: "Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me…"

Of course, this note can only mean one thing: Mr. What-Fine-Print-Are-You-Talking-About-I'm-Just-A-Disembodied-Voice is back!

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu is not mine.

…..

Every evening, she would lie back and gaze at the ceiling, the moonlight slanting through her curtains and sliding across the bed. Before long, the sensation of the pillow beneath her head and the quilted blankets brushing against her cheeks would fade into a memory and then into a thought, and then would be forgotten as the warmth rose up out of her body and made her weightless. It would be then, in the moment before her eyes drifted completely closed, that tiny sparks would flicker at the corner of her vision like stars, signaling the coming of a dream.

…..

A dazzling blue sky soared overhead, just visible through a ring of wavering flowers that towered about her head. The blueness expanded and bloomed before her as she sat up and looked around. Undulating in the breeze, blue and pink and red and yellow and orange flowers danced weightlessly around her, stretching out over gently sloping hills as far as she could see. The sight seemed so fresh and new… and yet, why did she feel that she'd been here before? Feeling some kind of energy on the wind, she stood and raised her hands, inviting the flowers around her into a dance. As she drifted from one movement to another, the sky before her seemed to ripple and waver like the surface of a pond. Something about it caught at her memory again and almost made her stop, but she dismissed it and continued to dance.

Then, one arm upraised, she paused happily in her dance, the other arm extended toward the empty space before her. As if on cue, he emerged through the rippling air, his deep green eyes softening as he caught sight of her. She realized then that her outstretched hand must be meant for him. He moved toward her, taking her hand in his, his other hand catching her about her waist. He spun her in his arms before gently guiding her into an arabesque. She turned her head feelingly as she flowed into the movement and found herself caught in his gaze. The wind pulled strands of his dark hair from its tie and cast them wildly about his face, but could not obscure the warmth of his expression. Unable to look away, she couldn't help but smile. The feel of his hand encircling her own, and the closeness of his face close to hers sent a thrill down her spine. Their movements were all a part of the dance, but somehow they seemed separate as well; private. Apprehensively, she reached out to touch his face, unsure of whether his gaze now was a part of the dance or meant just for her. At the way his eyes flickered as her hand brushed his cheek, she shivered, lowering herself from the arabesque. He did not look away, so neither did she, although her heart thrilled in her chest. He was so close, and smiling so happily at her, his hands still warm on her waist. Surely that had to be real. Shyly, she brought her other hand up to mirror the first, cupping his face tenderly against her palms and fingertips. Then, still gazing into his green eyes, she raised herself onto her toes and he responded, clasping her gently to him, bending to meet her...

Then suddenly, he was gone. The air hummed and wavered where he had abruptly disappeared. Beneath her feet, the flowers shrilled and wilted, falling away from her in a devastated circle. She would have gasped, but no air seemed to come to her lips. The ground was falling away, melting beneath her feet like paint being washed from a canvas. The sweet air floating about her rushed past her face, disappearing into a dark abyss below which deepened into the yawning maw of something monstrous. She tried to run or scream, but she was frozen in place, her hands extended holding something precious that was no longer there. With nothing to hold her anymore, She plummeted into the darkness, the air rushing past so quickly that is was difficult to draw breath. She couldn't move or scream, but tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and were lifted from her cheeks into the air as she fell. Somehow, she felt certain that she'd never hold his face in her hands again.

Although she didn't notice immediately, her fall slowed until it felt as if she might merely be sinking through water. She remained entangled in her grief until she settled suddenly upon a cold surface, finally released from her position. From the slight tang in the air, she instinctively gathered that this surface was made of metal. She shivered as she pushed herself to her feet and looked around anxiously.

Her memory called out to her again; this was the darkness she always returned to in her dreams, the place where she had sunk beneath crushing waters that forced the weight of her despair upon her until she thought she would die. Like a stage after a performance, however, it felt empty now, and yet retained traces of the feelings that came before the silence. She shivered again, still searching for a way out, or in, or away from this place, the memory of despair seeping into her stomach like icy lead.

From overhead came a sudden crack and bang that sized her heart in her chest. Crying out, she shielded herself with her hands, hunching in upon herself. After a moment, when it became evident that nothing was about to fall and crush her, she opened her eyes, only to close them quickly again against a blinding light. Now covering her eyes, she slowly cracked them open until they adjusted. A strong light shone from overhead, casting her in a brilliant circle. Something about this seemed so familiar…

"Ah… Perhaps this was a well-timed visit." A voice rang out in the darkness, completing the cycle of remembrance. She knew now, standing in the light that pinned her within the dark space, she remembered why it all seemed so familiar.

"You…" she whispered, breath gone from her lungs.

"Me." The voice responded sardonically. After a pause, the voice seemed to smirk. At least, if a voice could smirk, this one was certainly doing so.

"It seems that you've been thoroughly enjoying the effects of my benevolence," the voice remarked quietly, and she felt a wave of guilt wash through her at her less than grateful acknowledgement of the voice's return.

"Yes! Thank you so much for helping me. It's been wonderful, being able to talk to everyone again and to dance again and…"

"-To be with him again?" the voice ventured, sounding as if it contained a smile.

She stopped abruptly and to her surprise, felt a warm blush rising in her cheeks.

"Ah," the voice said knowingly.

She looked down at her feet, embarrassed, before she looked up and out into the darkness again. "He has been wonderful. A lot of the time he seems grumpy and he teases me a lot…" she glowered briefly, remembering some slight, "but then…" and her expression softened.

"Yes?" the voice encouraged.

She hesitated and then looked down with a secret smile. "There are times when he just talks to me. At those times, he becomes more… real. He's kind to me, and I remember that he's a nice person, even underneath his grumpy act. When he talks about his dreams and all the things he wants to do someday. He gets this look in his eyes…" she laughed a little under her breath, her heart fluttering and stopped to think of a way to describe the image in her head. "Sometimes he gets this look in his eyes, like he's so happy… he's so happy that he could… It makes me want to-" she stopped abruptly and gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know what I'm saying. I just think it's nice that I can respond to him now when he talks to me."

There was a long pause, after which the voice sighed. "So, is it worth it?" It asked after a while.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Is what worth it?"

The voice softly intoned, "Is it worth it for you, being human?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling something like dread seeping into her stomach, sensing thoughts rising into her mind that she thought she had pushed so far back that she would forget them. "Of course it's worth it," she said with a light laugh, but it came out weakly. Something about the question struck a discordant note in her mind, stirring confusing thoughts she may have pushed aside some time ago and forgotten.

The voice sighed again. "It's true that you may do more as a human than as a duck. In his lifetime, a single human may grow, meet thousands of people, learn from them, influence them, see the world, and leave his mark upon it with as little as a mere collection of his worldly observations." The voice paused and then took on a strangely quiet tone. "However, this strength in humankind is also its fault. Humans come to believe that they must serve a purpose, that they must leave their mark upon the world. As such, their lives will always change, and none of them may know exactly what to expect."

In her spotlight, she leaned forward to hear the voice better, although it came from no particular direction.

"Ahiru," the voice spoke louder, suddenly, as if rising from a reverie, "Are you prepared to live the inconstant life of a human? To never know if you will succeed in any endeavors; to never know when you will die; to live on even if those you love may leave you?"

She froze in place at the last words, contemplating their meaning. Could I be happy as a human if I lost everyone? Rue, Mytho, Pique… Fakir? Could my life still be meaningful?

Something like white hot panic stirred in her stomach at that thought and for a moment she remembered the feeling of ultimate loss as she fell endlessly into the black abyss, alone as the world rushed past. The words wouldn't come to her lips; the ones she knew she should say and the ones she wanted so badly to feel. Finally, she murmured hoarsely, "I… don't know."

The voice made a small noise, although whether it was one of approval or disapproval she could not tell. After a moment, it spoke. "Think about this more in the time to come. You will, of course, remember that you owe me a service in return for your granted wish. If you do not wish to keep this shape, you will be released from your debt to me, but I warn you that your life may not return to the way it was. If you do wish to keep this shape, be prepared to fulfill your promise. Should you decide that this responsibility is too much, however, be prepared to relinquish your human form."

She shivered, becoming acutely aware of how much she had been taking her human form for granted.

Her voice cracking with timidity, she asked, "What is it that you want me to do to fulfill my promise?"

The voice said nothing for several moments as if considering her question, or perhaps thinking of how to put a delicate request. In the silence, she heard her own heart beating rapidly within her chest; what if the voice asked her to perform a service that she simply couldn't fulfill? What then?

The voice made a noise as if clearing its throat. The sound successfully pulled her attention from her apprehension back to the itself and she waited, rapt with attention.

"What will I ask you to do is for the good of others within your town," the voice began, and those words chilled her with the promise of great importance. "I have been sensing a new presence in Kinkan for some time. It has grown enough to influence the the people of Kinkan Town, and I suspect that it will awaken very soon. Once it does, it will begin to change your world, little by little." The voice spoke plainly, but the ominous tone of its words was unmistakable. "To fulfill your promise to me, you must find the source of these changes and stop them before Kinkan town begins to truly suffer."

She felt very small as those last words reached her ears. "Kinkan town… something in Kinkan town is going to make everyone suffer?"

"Someone," the voice corrected. "This presence would have to be amongst the people of Kinkan to influence them."

She felt even smaller as she began to realize the enormity of the task before her. She would have to find a malicious presence dwelling innocuously among the inhabitants of Kinkan town, pick this person out of the inhabitants and somehow stop this person from harming Kinkan's people.

A lump forming in her throat, the word, "How?" began to rise incredulously to her lips, but the voice seemed to anticipate her feelings and spoke first.

"This task may not be as difficult as you believe. I have given it to you because I sense that you, above all others, will be able to do it."

Words finally burst from her lips, frightened and overwhelmed. "What makes you think I'll be able to do it, let alone 'above all others'?"

The voice chuckled. "This is a task for someone who genuinely cares about the town. I sense that you will be able to do this because you care more than most, even for those who you do not know. That kind of strength is rare."

Further words died in her throat. She found it difficult to believe that her concern for Kinkan's residents alone would be enough for her to accomplish this task, but she had already made her promise to the voice to do what it asked and it seemed to have faith that she would succeed.

At her extended silence, the voice became reassuring. "Do not be afraid. You have asked something from me, and now I must ask something of you in return. These are merely the laws by which my powers are constrained. I am certain you will be able to comply. However, I should remind you, not to become too… attached," the voice paused as if handling a delicate matter, "to anything, should you ultimately find yourself unprepared to fulfill your promise."

Clutching her arms although the air did not feel cold, she looked at her feet as yet more worrying thoughts sank into her mind.

Attached.

Deep green eyes swam in her mind and she closed her eyes, suddenly pained by their warmth. Yes, she had entered into an agreement that she had to fulfill. She would do her best, but if she was unable to fulfill it… she would have to let him go. When she had been a duck, his understanding of her only lasted as long as his memory of her human self did. If she were to become a duck again, that memory would fade again, and when it did, she would have to leave him. She knew well that he would honor his promise to stay with her; he would never allow himself to move on as long as he honored this obligation to her.

She sighed, and realized how simple her dilemma truly was. Protect Kinkan from the presence, and she would be able to stay with him as long as they each desired; fail to do so, and she would lose him forever. In the end, it was all for him, the one with the green eyes that seemed to shine for her alone. She laughed lightly at herself, also realizing that it had taken until now for her to realize the true reason that she had made the bargain all along.

The voice chuckled. "It seems you will need some time to think about your situation. I will return to you again. Until then, remember me."

The light overhead dimmed, suggesting that their exchange was over. Just before the lights dimmed, she thought she heard the voice whisper, "Good luck."

Then she was alone with the darkness again.

At the end, the only thing remaining was the question:

So, is it worth it?

…...

A/N: So, it's been a while… again.

I've resigned myself to the fact that I constantly overbook myself and as such will only be able to finish this story in pieces at a time. To those of you who have stuck with me for this long, thank you so much! Your support means so much to me. As for those of you who have discovered this story recently, a big thanks to you too. Every one of you helps me to stay motivated and remember why I love this fandom so much. :D Please remember that this story means a lot to me and I've been planning it for years now, and I don't intend to leave it unfinished. Someday, hopefully soon, it will reach completion.

Anyhow, I haven't been completely idle these past few months. As always, I've been writing and revising the story line to bring together the beginning and the end and it's starting to really come together, although it's always surprising how holes open up just when the story was beginning to look complete. At any rate, please enjoy, review, and keep reading!

-MYH


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